


Written Cross the Stars

by TheAini



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, human commander
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21855082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAini/pseuds/TheAini
Summary: The adventures of Commander Lys Fiora, a Priory magister, druid and former Ebon Vanguard scout. Beginning with the Icebrood Saga, the story explores the complicated past, and future, of her relationship with Braham Eirrson. Intended to fill the gaps between chapters as well as give a retelling of the story with a side of my lore nerd adventures.  Will be spoiler heavy!Mature chapters are marked with an asterisk so you can avoid the smut (or go straight for it if that's your jam)
Relationships: Braham Eirrson/Pact Commander, Braham Eirsson/Player Character
Comments: 26
Kudos: 61





	1. What's Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven's trials force a reluctant commander to admit her weakness, and a certain manipulative dragon takes advantage. The commander is conflicted, Rytlock is smug and Braham would like another kiss, please. 
> 
> Contains spoilers for the first chapter of The Icebrood Saga, taking place during and after 'The Invitation.' You have been warned! 
> 
> Also sharing fics is really stressful, okay.

* * *

"No matter what you do, it always ends up hurting me.”

The voice was familiar, Braham's dulcet rumbling bass, but the words were cutting; made more so by their lack of origin. 

“You should have tried harder to stop me, to make me understand."

"Everything would be better if I'd never met you."

She wasn't sure how long she'd been walking circles in Raven's maze of darkness, but the voices had been haunting her for what felt like days. She'd heard them all at first; Rytlock and Marjory, Jhavi ... Almorra. But they had all faded except this one. Was it Raven, or the dragon? Whichever, they’d found her weakness and honed in on it. 

"Commander? ... Commander, where are you?" Braham's voice was desperate, alarmed this time and Lys squeezed her eyes shut. She knew what came next, but expectation didn't stop her from doubling over and covering her ears as a blood-curdling scream of anguish and anger and terror echoed off the stone walls.

"Lys… Oh, Spirits. Lys, please!"

Braham. The sounds of Braham dying, over and over.

She waited. Forced herself to breathe for an eternity, until the last gurgling sob, the last quiet plea of her name had quieted. Bile rose in her throat as she stood back up, gulped down breaths of air. 

_"You could make it stop."_

The darkness hid her scowl as she lifted her head, set her shoulders. "I will, dragon." Placing one foot in front of the other, she pressed on alone into the inky black. "When I face you, I promise I will."

"—Should be coming up on the last one." The commander stopped in her tracks. Suddenly, Jhavi was there. The darkness was gone and they were all together outside what looked like a crypt. The commander blinked in confusion and spun in a circle.

"You're back!" She exclaimed, her words dripping with relief.

Rytlock arched one brow, "Commander... You okay?"

"Where..." Lys shook her head. She was so relieved, so exhausted that she struggled to keep her legs from giving out from under her. "Where were you?"

From behind her, Braham answered, "We've been here the whole time. You went quiet for a while." There was concern in his voice and a touch of amusement.

It was a rare thing to see the usually composed Pact Commander so perturbed, but hearing that voice ... so alive and so full of warmth made her lose her head even further. Driven by some unstoppable force she stepped over to the norn, stood on the tips of her toes and before he could so much as utter a word of confusion as he looked down at her - she kissed him. 

Braham went tense at the sudden sensation of the commander's soft lips on his, the warmth of her body pressed against him in this frigid, awful place. For a moment he forgot himself, forgot who she was and where they were and all the horrible things that were happening. He simply wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up to deepen their unexpected kiss. He took the invitation of the commander's slightly parted lips and drank deeply of her, his tongue finding hers. She made the softest sound of surprise and pleasure in response and Braham felt the coals of the fire he had never wanted to admit he was tending blossom in his chest.

"AHEM."

Crecia clearing her throat, loudly, brought both Braham and Lys crashing back to reality. She unlaced her arms from where they had somehow ended up around Braham's neck, and he set her back down on her feet. She scrambled backward, catching a glimpse of the wide, toothy grin on Rytlock's face as she turned to take her place at the head of the group again. "This place is..."

"I know." Jhavi glanced back at Braham, who's cheeks were nearly as red as his hair now, then back to the commander. "But we're almost done."

* * *

It wasn't peaceful in the keep, but it was quiet. The quiet that comes from exhaustion and biting cold and the solitary withdraw as each person fights their own silent battles. The commander found herself thankful for it, as she stood alone in front of the fire in the common room. She tried to find comfort in the warmth of the fire, in the lulling song of its hearty crackling and the shift of burning wood, but she shivered despite it as the image of the fraenir's leering, broken, dead grin rose unbidden in her mind's eye.

"Can't sleep, Commander?"

The soft voice jolted her from her thoughts and she turned to see Braham lingering at the edge of the firelight, like a wolf circling the campfire at night. She felt her cheeks burn at the sight of him and turned back to the fire, hoping the warmth would excuse her sudden blush. "No," She answered, crossing one arm over her stomach to grasp at her opposite arm, "But I haven't really tried yet either."

Braham stayed where he was for another unsure moment, his brow knit with doubt. Something about the way she shifted, drew in on herself, compelled him forward. He tried to sound like his usual boisterous self, "If you fall asleep on patrol tomorrow morning I ain't carrying you."

"No?" Lys forced a chuckle as he moved to stand beside her, though she avoided looking at him. "Make Rytlock do it then, he's soft and fluffy. Nice napping spot."

"I'd like to see anyone tell Rytlock he's fluffy. Even you." Braham gave her a sidelong glance as he replied and couldn't help but fidget now that they were so close again, and alone. He had no idea what to do. Could he touch her? If he slipped his arm around her waist, would she recoil? He wasn't sure he could survive that. He wondered what would happen if he just pulled her into his arms and kissed her properly, took her by surprise like she'd taken him earlier.

"Braham, listen ..."

He felt his throat tighten as her words interrupted his indecision. That was her Commander Tone, which didn't bode well for the newly raging fire in his chest. "Are you about to apologize for kissing me?"

"No." She shook her head, then reconsidered. "Yes? I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have … with everything else going on and everyone there ..."

Braham took a step closer, closing the little remaining distance between them. He reached out and lightly touched her shoulder, turning her to face him as he repeated his question more softly this time, " ... are you apologizing for kissing me, commander?"

Gods above, no I'm not, she thought as she tilted her head back to look up at the much taller norn. He sounded so ... plaintive, and the searching expression in his vivid green eyes as he looked down at her cracked the last of her resolve. "I ... I am at least apologizing for the timing ... "

His touch on her shoulder was no longer unsure as he trailed his fingers down her arm, took her smaller hand in his and pulled her close. As her body crashed into his he released her hand and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She bristled only a moment before letting go ... letting it all go, and sinking into Braham's embrace. He smelled of leather and wolf and the sharp lingering ozone of his gaurdian magics. Her arms slipped around his waist, hands pressed to his back as she hid her face in the fur of his jacket. She was tall for a human woman, but she still didn't quite come up to his chest.

They stayed that way, wrapped in their wordless embrace for several long moments. She kept telling herself to let go, but she stubbornly refused to listen to reason.

As he grew more certain that she wasn't going to bolt Braham became bolder. His hold on the commander loosened and he slid his hands down her back, fingers grazing the curve of her hips as he wrapped his hands around her waist. The commander had never seemed delicate to Braham, she towered over most of the sylvari and humans in their company, but now ... touching her like this, holding her so close ... how did someone so small carry the whole world on her shoulders? And why was she letting someone like him this close? After everything he'd done, everything he'd said to her?

_"Vowbreaker. You are not worthy.”_

"Braham?" She spoke his name quietly, questioningly. His touch had stilled, and she'd so hoped that it wouldn't. Something was bothering him. She tilted her head back to look up at him, caught the frown that confirmed her suspicion before he hid it away in his response.

"Sometimes I just don't use my head." He flashed her a playful grin, the tremble in his voice betraying him. "I know I said we were family, but I didn't realize what you meant when you said ... when you said you wanted me at your side. If that is ... what you meant." 

Lys kept her eyes on his as she pressed her hands to his bare stomach, lightly caressing the dark curls of hair there. She watched intently as her touch elicited a sharp intake of breath from him. Watched how he shuddered as she slipped her hands into his coat, danced her fingertips over the hard muscle of his sides. "You are right where I want you to be, Braham. Where I want to be." 

"Commander ..." He spoke her title like a plea, all throat and purr.

_“He will break so easily, now. You are his weakness.”_

Lys tensed immediately. Jormag's words were like a well-placed dagger in the chink of her armor. She felt cold suddenly and realized that she'd dug her nails into Braham's back without realizing it. She let go and started to apologize, but he wouldn't let her. 

"Hey, hey ..." He pressed her back into his embrace, threaded his fingers in her hair. Whatever that damned dragon has whispered, it made her white as a sheet. Braham leaned down, planting a hesitant kiss on the side of her head and whispered softly, "Don't listen to their lies." 

She closed her eyes, trying desperately not to remember those screams in the Sanctum. 

"... right." Lys had done a lot of difficult things in the last seven years, but taking a step backward and wrenching herself away from Braham’s warmth was up there. “I should… I’m sorry, Braham. I should try to get some sleep. We both should.”

All his instincts said ‘Chase.’ Like Wolf himself telling him not to let this prey get away, to catch her and drag her to the floor right there, make her want to stay. He didn't want his first taste of her to be his last. He could make her warm enough to forget even the memory of the cold outside, steal away the dragon's poison words with heat if she'd let him. 

But the smile she gave him was apologetic, and she was his pack… So he let her go.


	2. Voices in the Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Commander disappears into an oncoming storm and Jormag is kind enough to cheer Braham on while he searches for her. Past hurts are considered, as the two try to navigate their complicated relationship.

Something had been nagging at Braham all day. He'd tried to wave it off as lingering frustration and confusion about what happened with the commander yesterday, tried to focus on the work in front of him. Jora’s Keep was a disaster; suffering under the constant onslaught of storms and now that the Vigil was short-handed it was all hands to try to patch roofs, repair walls and get the supplies in order. Having something to do with his hands, something tangible to focus on, usually cleared his mind but he just couldn’t shake it today… something was wrong. Or about to go wrong. He was outside the barracks, holding a plank of wood in place for a Vigil crew member when he heard it. 

_“She is all alone, and they are closing in.”_

The sudden hissing whisper of Jormag’s voice in his head made him nearly let go of the piece of timber, earning a glare from the woman below him. He didn’t have to wonder who the dragon meant, he just activated his com. 

“Commander?” 

Silence. 

“Commander, where are you?” 

Again. Why wasn’t she answering? “Commander?”

“These things have been intermittent since the last storm,” Crecia answered, her tone clearly indicating that her answer was less to be helpful and more to keep the norn from yelling again. 

“Any idea where she is?” Braham’s response was terse, made more so by the whisper that cut through before he could hear the charr’s response. 

_“She's calling for you.”_

“ _-_ north gate, this morning."

Braham was already making his way across the keep. “Thanks.” He could see Rytlock just inside the gate arguing with an asura in Vigil garb. 

“Burn the logistics of it, shorty. We can’t clear passes with our claws. You’re just going to have to make room in the chopper for what Cre and I need.” The charr had risen to his full height, arms crossed over his chest to make a point as he glared down at the asura. The little guy barely came up to the charr's knee, but he didn’t seem remotely cowed. 

“There’s another storm on the horizon. We are only making one more trip for necessary supplies today. You're ‘just going to have to’ wait until -” 

Braham either didn’t register that they were in the middle of something, or didn’t care. He interrupted, “Have either of you seen the commander?”

The asura gave the rude new arrival a passing glance and waved vaguely toward the gate, ready to continue his argument with Rytlock. “She went that way a while ago.” 

Braham growled, clenching and unclenching his fists once and restated his question … slowly. “She went where?” The anger boiling up inside of him wasn’t rational, but it was the only way he knew how to process panic. And that is what he felt right now, inexplicably. Panic. 

The asura squeaked, taking a half step backward away from the angry norn. Suddenly understanding which of the two towering figures he should be paying attention to he repeated himself, “She … err, north?”

“... alone?” Braham’s question was borderline threat. 

“Y-yes, well … no.” The poor asura sputtered, “She had a really quite big bear with her. She said something about … finding a proper dinner?” 

“Dinner?” Rytlock chimed in now in confusion, looking over at Braham. “What’s got your fur in a knot, kid?”

“ _Why are you never there when she needs you?”_

Another growl from Braham, a spike of panic rising in his throat. “She’s not answering her coms and she shouldn’t be out there alone. Who just let her wander off on her own, with a storm on the way and the coms half dead?” 

It was all Rytlock could do not to laugh and the rolling rumble of his response betrayed that, “Listen, lover boy, she can take care of herself.” 

It was Braham’s turn to sputter, in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Since yesterday, when the commander had suddenly kissed him, Rytlock had been giving him knowing grins; wiggling his fuzzy eyebrows at him all the time. “I’m not…we’re not! … I’m going to look for her.”

“Alone? With the coms half dead?” Rytlock arched a brow, though his point was lost on Braham, who was already heading through the gate. 

“Apparently!” 

* * *

  
  


The constantly falling snow made it difficult to follow her tracks, or more aptly, the bear tracks. The commander’s boots were impossible to distinguish from every other human-sized footprint, but Jasper’s were unique. At least she had brought her pet. 

“Going to find a proper dinner?” Braham muttered to himself as he turned south, following the trail as it cut away from the road and up toward the mountains. He remembered yesterday while making their way to Raven’s Sanctum. Lys has spotted the vibrant green tops of root vegetables fighting their way through the snow. Braham had found it endearing how joyful finding a bunch of plants made her and had agreed that a nice turnip stew sounded delicious. 

“Pact Commander. Slayer of Dragons. God Killer …” The tracks were becoming even harder to follow as the hills gave way to the edge of a forest. “... wandering the bloody svanir covered mountains for turnips. Perfect.” 

_“The snow is so cold.”_

Somehow he felt the whisper this time, crawl up his back like a living thing. Dig into the base of his neck and send a wave of panic he struggled to push down. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself but found a new source of fear as he did ...he smelled blood on the air.

Braham launched himself up the rise ahead, a dozen terrible images flashing through his mind. Snow crunched under his boots as he crested the hill and skidded to a stop - crimson stained the crystal white snow. There had been a struggle, and something was dragged toward the trees … something bleeding heavily. 

“It isn’t her, it isn’t her.” He tried to tell himself as he slung his shield off his back, settled his mace into his hand. “This doesn’t mean it’s her.” The logic of his self-argument did nothing. He was too late. He was going to round this next tree and see her lifeless form crumpled in the snow. It was his fault. She’d been so alive and so close last night and he’d let her go. He should have stayed with her, should have watched out for her. He promised her that she deserved better. The trail led on, more blood than anyone could lose and still survive and he crashed through the forest without a hint of caution until he came finally to its origin. 

Hanging from a tree branch, spilling its lifeblood into a pool in the snow, was a slain deer. A puncture between the ribs, a single expertly placed arrow had felled it and based on the tracks a human and a bear had worked together to hang it. At the base of the tree rested a neat knotwork of grass, woven into the symbol of Melandru - the commander’s offering to the deer’s spirit in thanks for its sacrifice. 

“It wasn’t her.” His legs felt weak suddenly. “Oh Spirits, it wasn't her.” But where was she? The carcass was cold, she’d felled the deer hours ago. It shouldn’t have taken her that long to forage vegetables. 

_“You have left her to her fate, the same as you left your guildmates.”_

He knew, somewhere behind the panic and desperation, that Jormag was not helping him. Knew that whatever game they were playing at, it wasn’t to protect the commander. If he were less emotional, if this was a few days ago, he might have admitted that he was being tricked, just like at the camps. But yesterday the commander had rolled her tongue around his, slid her warm hands against his bare back and everything had changed. It didn’t _matter_ if he was being tricked, he **had** to find her. 

The wind had started to pick up. Even in the cover of the forest, it was clear that the storm was rolling in. Gusts drove the freshly fallen snow up into disorienting clouds that stung like daggers of ice. Braham was starting to feel cold, and for a norn, that was saying something. A sudden gust shook a sheet of snow loose from a branch overhead and he had to quickly sidestep to avoid it. As he paused to try to get his bearings the forest echoed suddenly with the roar of a bear, loud enough to cut through the howl of the wind. Braham spun toward the sound. Fifty paces to his left was a large brown bear with a basket strapped to it’s back - and the commander, with her hood down and her staff on the ground beside her, kneeling next to something in the snow. 

The wind was so loud that Lys didn’t register the approaching form until Jasper did. She spun around, tried to scramble to her half-frozen feet while reaching for her staff, but Jasper’s grunt and grumble was a friendly greeting of recognition. A look of relief washed over her face as she recognized who was approaching. “Braham! Oh thank the gods, I -”

Her words were cut short as Braham reached her. He said nothing, just cupped her face in his hands - gods above, his hands were so warm, and looked her over as if searching for something. “B-Braham, what …” 

“You’re okay?” She was alright. She was alive. Now that he was here, he’d make sure it stayed that way. “You’re not hurt?” 

“No, no. I’m fine. I’m so glad you’re here, help me get her -” Lys again didn’t get to finish her sentence. 

“What in Wolf’s name were you thinking?!” As the relief he felt when he saw her washed away it turned suddenly into frustration and anger. “Running out here alone, with svanir and aberrants and Spirits knows what else. No word of where you’re going, no answer on your com -” She never let herself rely on anyone else. She tried to do everything on her own, always so afraid of being a burden or letting anyone see her falter. 

_“She doesn’t need you.”_

Braham shook his head as if doing so would chase the voice away. “What if I hadn’t found you?! What would I have done if you’d froze to death out here? What would any of us do without you?” 

Under the unexpected tirade, with her mind numbed by cold, Lys forget for a moment who she was. She remembered though. “Braham! Stop yelling, and help me.” The commander barked his name and pointed to the norn woman sitting unnoticed in the snow at their feet. “... please, please help me.” 

The way the commander’s voice cracked, the exhaustion and desperation in her voice cleared the haze around Braham. He shook his head, like shaking off a deep sleep and blinking in confusion down at the other woman in the snow. She was norn, golden blonde hair worn in a thick braid down her back, dressed in Vigil robes. She didn’t seem to notice their presence, even with all the yelling, and was just staring into the distance and mumbling. 

Lys knelt back down next to the woman, reached out and took hold of her arm. “Please, Annah … it’s Annah, right? You helped me find the book I’d lost the other day, remember? You can’t stay here, you’ll freeze.” 

“It’s so easy now …” Annah responded though it wasn’t to the commander. “I just have to rest here. It will be okay, now.” 

“What … what’s going on?” Braham moved to the left of Lys, positioning himself to block the wind from hitting her as much as he could. 

“I don’t know.” Lys shook her head. “This is Annah. I found her just … just walking through the woods. She was talking to something, hearing something. She kept thanking it for ‘showing her the way’, and said how tired and lost she’d been.” The commander gave Annah a shake. The norn woman showed no reaction, though her mumbled words were growing slower and more slurred. “Then she just … sat down in the snow. I've been trying to get her to move, but she … I could subdue her, but I couldn’t make it back to the keep with her."

“Jormag ….” Braham growled the name, the explanation. “She is a bit much for you to carry back to the keep on your own, commander. Even with Jasper’s help.” As Braham spoke he reached down and took the commander’s arm, helping her up to her feet. Her hair was caked with snow, her usually rosy complexion faded to a worrying shade of blue. He gently pulled her hood up for her, settled its fur around her cheeks. “... you’re nearly as frozen solid as she is. Come on, I’ll carry her. We’ll get you both back to the keep.” 

Lys only nodded and watched as Braham picked up the norn woman as if she were nothing. Annah made to fight him off, but it was a feeble attempt and she fell to mumbling and thrashing as he held her like a child. “Commander?” He turned to look over his shoulder at Lys, “Hold on to the back of my coat, I don’t want to lose you.” 

“You won’t.” Lys moved behind Braham, stepping close and taking hold of his coat just above his waist. Even just the break from the wind was a relief. “Tell me if she takes a turn, we’ll stop so I can heal her.” 

“Yes, commander.” Braham sighed as he turned toward the bear, “Come on, Jasper. Let’s get the girls home and warm.” 

* * *

Later that evening the commander went looking for Braham. She found him sitting alone in the common room. He’d pulled one of the blanket-covered benches up toward the fire and was sitting leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking deep in thought. She paused to watch him a moment; to admire how the shadows highlighted the strength of his jaw, the contrast of the white fur of his coat against his dark skin, how the flickering firelight shone in his eyes. It must be so difficult for him to be in this place … the last thing she wanted to do was add to that difficulty, she just wasn’t sure if staying or going would be better for him. Before she could decide he glanced over at her and his frown deepened. 

“Hey.” She spoke softly in greeting, hesitated a moment more, but then made her away over to settled down on the bench next to him. 

“Hey.” His reply was short, laced with uncertainty. “How is she …?” 

Lys shifted in her seat, folding her hands in her lap since she couldn’t decide what else to do with them. “The healers have her sedated. As soon as she warmed and rested she tried to get up and walk back outside. They caught her halfway to the gate … with no boots on.”

“That’s …” Braham exhaled slowly and sat back. That could just as easily be any of them. It kind of had been him, more than once. “That’s awful.” 

“Yeah.” Lys didn’t have anything else to offer. She just ran her fingers through her hair and shivered. 

“Commander, listen …” He didn’t know where to start. Didn’t know how to explain what drove him today. 

Braham was fidgeting, shifting uncomfortably. She reached over and touched his arm, for just a moment. “I’m listening.” 

He exhaled again, seemed to relax a bit. “It started here in the keep. The voice said that you were alone and in danger. And then when you didn’t answer your com I was just … blind with worry. Panic, really. I found where you killed the deer and thought …” He glanced over at her, reassuring himself that she was there. “By the time I found you I’d … I’m sorry. I knew Jormag was fucking with me, but that didn’t make it stop.” 

Their eyes met as he looked over at her and Lys felt like a foolish schoolgirl for a moment, instead of the Pact Commander. “When I went quiet in the Raven Sanctum, before we …” She looked away, back toward the fire. “I was somewhere else for a while or thought I was. I know that sounds crazy, but I was in a maze. Dark and endless. And I kept hearing… “ She swallowed, her voice lowering in an attempt to keep it steady. “The whole time I heard you dying. Over and over, Braham. Vividly."

She was turned from him, but Braham could still see the pain that crossed her face as she said those words. It took all his self-control not to pull her into his arms, to physically assure her that he was alive, they were both alive. But he made do with reaching over to brush a lock of her honey-colored hair back behind her ear, letting his fingers linger a moment on her cheek. 

She shivered, from his touch or from the cold, and gave him a half-smile. “I knew it wasn’t real, but … by the time I found my way back, so to speak, I was a wreck. Gods, Braham, you were begging me to help you and I couldn’t do anything but listen. It didn’t matter that I knew it wasn’t real. It felt real. And then when I saw you, alive and well, I just …” 

He simply nodded.

It was her turn to sigh deeply. “Jormag is insidious. They know just the weaknesses to target, just the right words to break you, the perfect way to mislead. “ 

He leaned forward again, away from her. “Plenty of weaknesses to push with me …” 

“Braham.” His shoulders were hunched and he was flexing his fingers, wringing his hands. Tense, like a coil set to spring. She shifted to the edge of the bench, leaned forward to match his posture so she could see his face again. She repeated his name. “Braham.” 

He didn’t look at her, couldn’t look at her. “Yeah?” 

Lys knew better than to try to beat him with stubbornness so she tried the opposite. When she spoke her voice was soft, as was her touch when she brushed her fingers against his jaw. “You own your mistakes.” 

His eyes closed and he reached up to catch her hand, held it against his cheek for a moment. “You don’t deserve to suffer for them though.” 

“Suffer?” She blinked, giving a low chuckle. “I’m not suffering, and you are not inflicting anything upon me.”

She laughed? He looked over her, brow furrowed. Her wry smile but just as warm as ever. It made no sense to him. “This whole mess is my fault. None of my guildmates would have been here if I hadn’t abandoned them, you wouldn’t be here if I hadn't lost my god damn bow …”

“That was Ryland’s doing.” Lys countered. “Technically, Crecia’s, since she did such a bang-up job teaching him.” 

“Ryland didn’t make me drink myself into oblivion.” 

“After everything we’ve been through, you were just letting off some steam. You deserved some fun.”

He was still holding her hand and he traced his thumb against her palm as he spoke. “That sounds like an excuse.”

“It’s forgiveness.” She countered again. 

“Why do you always forgive? You shouldn’t forgive - not after everything I’ve done.” He released her hand suddenly, “Not after I was such an insufferable jackass to you.” 

“I just … do.” Lys sighed, looking down at her now empty hand. “Braham, you literally faced down an elder dragon with me. You stared Kralkatorrik in the face, and said ‘Behind me.’ After all the times you’ve had my back since then, how can I hold a grudge? Besides … After Mordremoth, I understand what it’s like to lose someone you love. And how lost and angry it can make you.” 

Braham frowned. That hollow, pained tone of voice is one he’d never heard from the commander. Trahearne … He suddenly remembered. He’d been too caught up in his own bullshit, too selfish at the time to think about anyone other than himself. But the commander and Trahearne had been very close … rumors said more than close. And she’d had to … he tried to imagine, but rejected the idea so hard that he shuddered.

Lys took a deep breath, steeled her voice before she spoke again. “I never want to feel that way again.” 

She’s afraid, Braham realized with a start. It was such a foreign concept to consider, the commander being afraid of anything short of the end of the world. But who had been there for her for Trahearne’s death? To see him tortured like that, and then be forced to kill him herself. Who had comforted her? Sure as hell not him, probably no one. She was the one who took care of everyone else. No one took care of her. That was going to change, he promised himself. Whether she agreed to it or not. 

She was looking at him, her expression contemplative and he felt the need to change the subject. “I doubt they meant it to end this way, but I’m glad Jormag taunted me into finding you. Kind of a miracle really, if Jasper hadn't roared when he did I would have walked right past you.”

The commander blinked. “Jasper didn’t roar …”

Now Braham looked confused. “Yes, he did. I nearly walked right past you, with the storm blowing in. I only caught sight of you because I heard a bear roar loud enough to hear through the wind … are you sure?”

“Positive.” Lys shook her head. The two of them shared a look of disbelief, as they both began to come to the same conclusions. “Jasper … didn’t make a sound until he gruffed at you in greeting.”

The commander scrunched her face up in confusion, but Braham suddenly burst into boisterous laughter. “Bear!” He exclaimed, flashing a wide grin at Lys. “I’ve told you before that you must be blessed by Bear, with how connected you and Jasper are. Unbelievable!” 

She wasn’t sure what to make of that, but Braham’s joyful laughter made her blush. “I’m not sure …” She began, but why wasn’t she? If Raven could help them, Bear could too. And she needed all the allies she could get. “Well. That was surely not something Jormag intended.”

“Good!” Braham continued to smile, “I wasn’t comfortable being thankful to that dragon for helping me find you, but I can sure as hell be thankful to Bear. Jormag just wanted to lead me into the storm to freeze alongside you, but the Spirits are looking out for you.”

“For us, Braham.” Lys reminded, giving him a smile.

“Us.” He quickly agreed.


	3. Deal with Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late-night discussion over drinks gets heated and the commander is a mess as they breach the subject of the impact of Mordremoth.

Outside the winds were howling but late into the night the people of Jora’s Keep lingered in the common room. Small groups gathered around tables, nursing mugs of ale or playing dice games. It was a slice of normality, of sanity, in the insanity of life in the keep. The Commander’s table had been lively earlier, Jory and Jhavi had a spirited argument about necromancy that brought up their school days, much to the entertainment of everyone gathered. One by one everyone else had wandered off to find their beds, leaving only Braham and Lys in the now quiet corner. He’d insisted on her taking the warm spot near the fire and that along with the several strong ales she’d drank that evening combined to make her feel as content as she had in weeks. 

The two of them had been sitting in silence for some time, though not an awkward one. Lys found it oddly comforting, actually, just to quietly share the same space. Across the room, the dice game was getting rowdy, so there was plenty of entertainment as well as a good distraction for how many looks she was sneaking at Braham.

All the ale she’d drank that evening told her that it was time to break the silence and be awkward, though. "I'm really glad you have hair again." What the heck, Lys. She immediately blushed and regretted her comment.

Braham grinned slowly, running his hand over the dark red braid woven down the center of his otherwise shorn head. "Yeah?" He gave the commander a smug smirk, "You like it?"

"I do. I’ve always loved the color and the braid is … ruggedly handsome?" She returned his smirk, taking the excuse of considering his hair to generally admire him. He really wasn't her usual type, not that he wasn't a very attractive man, but how attracted she found herself to him lately made it impossible to deny that she was developing feelings for him. She realized that her staring had been noticed when Braham’s smirk turned predatory. 

“Have I told you how much I like your new armor?” He let his gaze wander without trying to hide it. If the commander could stare, he could too. He’d just blame the ale. “Especially the straps along your side, and the ones wrapped around your thigh…”

The way he said ‘thigh’, practically purring as he grinned at her, made Lys squirm. A change of subject was needed, quickly. “Can I ask you something, Braham?” 

Her cheeks were rosy, and she had that lingering dreamy smile that always betrayed her level of drunkenness. This should be good, he thought. “Would it matter if I said no?”

Lys flashed a grin. “You won’t say no.” 

“You got me there.” He chuckled, took the final drink of his ale so he could consider the commander over the rim. “Go on.” 

“You should have another ale.” She nodded encouragingly. 

“Yeah?” He arched a brow questioningly. “We gonna be here a while still?”

“Just the last time you got drunk you told me I was your best friend at least half a dozen times. I’m curious what you would reveal now, between just the two of us.” That was not changing the subject in the right direction at all, she berated herself.

Braham shifted uncomfortably, cleared his throat. “Didn’t you have a question for me?” 

Lys chuckled, he was so cute when he was embarrassed. “It’s kind of random, but it's something I've been wondering…" 

“Will you get to it?” His words were short, but the way he said them was laced with fond amusement. 

She opened with an establishing name. “Joko.”

“What about him?” 

“During our fight, when he was taunting me, he said that ‘my norn’ was crying.” She arched a brow, gazing steadily over at Braham. “Were you?

Braham snorted. “Crying?”

“Yes.”

“Of course not! Why would I cry?”

Lys narrowed her eyes and slowly leaned forward, giving him a dubious look. 

Braham glanced at the commander sidelong then pushed his empty mug aside and leaned toward her as well, his voice lowered as he continued, “I was just forced to stand there and watch you fight for your life, to listen to all the shit he was saying to you. Just had to consider I might be watching you die when I couldn’t do a thing about it. Why would I cry?”

“Braham …” She hadn’t expected such a heartfelt response to her playful teasing, and in her tipsy state, all she could do was blush. She looked away. 

Aware of how close they were, he chuckled and sat back, but only a bit. He was engaged in a constant state of battle for her nearness and you didn’t give up hard-fought ground until you had to. “What made you ask that?”

She glanced at him, took a small drink of the ale she was nursing. “I’ve just been … considering our past. Reevaluating? That’s not the right word.” She furrowed her brow. “We’ve known each other for a very long time, and we’ve … been through so much.”

Across the room the dice game erupted into a mix of cheers and boos, drawing both their attention for a moment. When they turned back to each other, Braham spoke first. His voice was still low, betraying his nerves “Can I ask you a question, Commander?” 

“Of course.” Something about his tone made Lys understand that this wasn’t going to be a joking question. 

“I don’t want to ruin your good mood …”

“Braham.” She chuckled and reached over to touch his hand for a brief moment. “Quiet moments are rare. Ask.” 

The two of them were already sitting very near, all the empty chairs were on the other side of their table, but Braham turned sideways in his seat, facing her. She arched a brow and glanced nervously at her mug, “Should I get another ale for this?” 

He shook his head, forced a chuckle. “You’re not the only one who’s been … reevaluating. I’ve been reevaluating basically everything I’ve ever done recently. And I’ve been thinking …”

Lys stayed quiet, but she subtly turned in her chair as well, her knees brushing against his as she did. 

Braham took a deep breath, like before diving into a freezing river. “Back in Maguuma, with Mordremoth.” He paused, waiting for her nod before he continued, “Even before my mother, before Eir … if I’m being honest, Commander … I had a hard time seeing you as a person.” The expression on Lys’ face made his heart clench. He quickly tried to correct, “I mean, I think about the Pact Commander back then and then about you … sitting so close to me right now with your cheeks all red and that frown on your face and I … .”

Lys frowned even more. She wasn’t sure if this was a confession or a laying of grievances.

Braham shook his head. “I just mean, you’ve always been you, haven’t you? It doesn’t matter how many more titles you take on. Dragon Champion. God Killer. You’re still ... you. The Commander was so larger than life back then, so unshakeable. But you must have …” He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say at this point and suddenly wished he’d had a few more drinks.

He was struggling with whatever he was trying to say so she kept her voice soft as she prompted, “You had a question, Braham?”

Thankful for the way out of his ramble, but still unsure how to ask he paused. Best to just get it over with now he'd started. He needed to know. “Trahearne?”

She inhaled and her shoulders went rigid, like something had shifted. “What about him?”

Braham was greatly regretting this line of conversation now, but he'd started so he might as well finish. “Were you two …?”

Lys arched a brow, her defensiveness obvious. “Lovers?”

Braham frowned, his voice gentle, “I’m not trying to pry, tell me to shove it if you want. But … yeah.” 

The Commander swallowed and laced her fingers together in her lap. It wasn’t a time she liked to talk about or a subject she liked to breach. She’d packed all that away as best she could in a little box and shoved it in a corner marked ‘deal with never’. But it was Braham who was asking, so she was truthful. “We were, yes.” 

The repercussions hit him like a ton of bricks. In the jungles, he’d stood there and yelled at her about finding Eir, tried to insinuate that she wasn’t doing enough to find the missing when the man she loved was missing too. He'd been even more thick-headed and oblivious than he thought. She’d seen Trahearne tortured, carried the guilt of not being able to rescue him in time, and then had to … Spirits, what she'd had to do at the end. The commander was clutching her hands in her lap so tightly that her knuckles were white. He reached out and took her hands in his, offering his hands instead for her to cling to. “Lys …” 

He’d never used her name before. No one used her name. She kept her eyes down and hoped that he wouldn’t say it again, or she might burst into tears.

The room had grown suspiciously quiet ... Braham looked up to see what was left of the dice players, their game abandoned, staring raptly at them from across the room. The glare he gave them set them to their feet, though they snickered and threw winks at him as they made their exit, leaving the room to just he and the commander. 

The sound of the door closing and the sudden blast of cold air brought Lys to her senses. She shook her head and blinked rapidly as she looked away and would have pulled her hands back, but her movement had made Braham’s hold on her tighten. He was refusing to let her go. His slow exhale prompted Lys to look back at him again. She’d expected to find pity there, she so hated pity, but instead, she found a look of remorse and pain in his bright green eyes that took her breath away. She gave his hand a tight squeeze.

“... I’m sorry.” He more breathed the words out than spoke them, like a sigh. 

“Sorry?” She shook her head, “We’ve been over this Braham. Loss makes us do things we regret. You don't have to carry this anymore.”

“No.” He leaned forward again, drawing their entwined hands up between the shared space between them. “I was oblivious to everything you were going through. We all were. You were our rock, and we didn’t even stop to think …”

“Braham.” She spoke his name gently and gave him a soft smile. “I was your commander. With Trahaerne … gone I was the only leadership the Pact had. I did what the Vanguard taught me. Leaders can’t fall apart, not with so many lives depending on you. It’s just … “ She lost track of what she was saying for a moment as Braham brought her right hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. Her pause made him blush and run his thumb self consciously over the spot he had just kissed, “I did what I had to do to get us all out of there, to take down Mordremoth. You weren’t oblivious, I was purposefully hiding what I was feeling.”

“You shouldn’t have.” He said stubbornly, though he knew on some level that she was right. He wasn’t equipped to have helped her back then, even if he’d known, but that didn’t change his regret. “Promise me something?” He leaned even closer, catching her eyes with his. 

Braham was still caressing her hand with his thumb, gently tracing along her fingers. He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath, so close she'd barely need to move to claim those full lips again ...it was a distracting thought but she tried to focus enough to keep her gaze steady as she nodded.

“Don’t try to carry the whole world yourself anymore? We know that you’re not an unbreakable rock. We’re all here for you and I …" The commander had subtly licked her bottom lip, probably an unconscious nervous movement, but Braham was entranced. His gaze flickered from her eyes toward her lips. It was all he could do to finish his thought, his voice just above a whisper. “We’re family. Please don’t suffer alone.” 

He was going to kiss her. She could see it in the way he glanced at her mouth, in his shallow breathing, in the hesitant part of his lips. It wasn't that she didn't want him to ...it was how much she wanted him to that was the issue. If he kissed her right now, she would come undone. She couldn’t let that happen, not with Jormag trying to break them all, not when she had to be The Commander. She untangled her fingers from his and reached out to lay her hand on his cheek. The questioning look on his face was almost too much so she leaned in and very gently pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth.

Braham sensed the limit being placed before him, the line being drawn by her chaste kiss but he was also close enough to feel how her pulse was racing, to hear how she struggled to keep her breathing even. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the affection she was willing to give. As the commander started to draw back he reached out before she could get away, laid his hand on the back of her neck and kept her close. He dragged his nose along her jaw, breathing in her nearness with a quiet hum of pleasure and nudged her ear as he whispered, "I'm right here, Lys."

Gods above, he was not making this easy. She held her breath and shivered. Unconsciously, she had tilted her head to offer her ear toward his affections and her hand once resting upon his cheek had wandered, her traitorous fingers now working themselves into the weave of his braid at the nape of his neck. She gave a soft laugh, sounding apologetic “I’m not trying to be difficult, I swear. I’m just … struggling.”

He would let her go, but not before making certain he left no doubt that he didn’t want to. He nuzzled her ear again, breathing a soft sigh as he kissed her neck once … twice. He let his lips linger, taking solace in how he could hear her heart racing as fast as his own. “I know. I’m just … following your lead, commander.” 

The mixture of relief and disappointment she felt when Braham let her go was poignant. What was she supposed to say? What could she possibly say?

The look of remorse the commander was giving him made him shake his head. He forced himself to give her a smile, to pretend that they weren’t both just moments away from - he couldn’t finish the thought, or he’d be sweeping the table clear and having his way with her on it instead. Change the subject, Braham. “You know what I think?”

Lys squirmed in her seat, cleared her throat before she responded. “What’s that?”

“We should get you out of the Marches for a bit.” He cut her off before she could protest, “Hear me out. We’re stuck here until a pass is found and this place …. I know Jormag is targeting you more than the rest of us. I’m not saying run, just … be productive somewhere else for a couple days. We’ll keep the place standing.” 

Lys frowned as she considered. She had to admit that she was exhausted, she must be if the others were starting to pick up on just how relentless the dragon had been in tormenting her. “I’m not going to leave you all here, what horrors might I come back to?”

“A couple days. Weren’t you just all excited about some big lead the Priory found? You know they need their star Magister.” He gave her an encouraging grin, “It’s not leaving, it’s … expanding the area of operation.”

“You know ….” Lys returned his smile, gazing fondly at him. “You’re getting pretty good at handling me.” 

“... I’ll get even better at it.” He teased, giving her a meaningful look. “Just give me time.” 


	4. Ice Weakens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jora's Keep is in an uproar as more norn men betray them, stealing away a group of Vigil in the night. The beleaguered commander leads a team to the Ravenfrost Caverns where she'll confront more than just icebrood.

It just never stopped.

The headaches, the heartaches; the guilt and the choices. It was hard enough to carry the world when you were in your right mind but the longer Lys spent in the Marches the more certain she became that she no longer was. 

The whispers never stopped. Brief reprieves to remind her what silence was like, and then the insinuations began again. It wasn’t so bad at first, she was well used to an abusive inner dialogue. It was the tricks and compulsions, the thoughts that were not hers that were the worst to deal with. The hardest part was pretending it was all okay, being the strong one. Being The Commander. 

She found moments of peace up here, high above the treetops. The sound of the wind whistling past her ears as her griffon, Morrigna, played in the air drove the whispers away for a time. She claimed these morning flights were scouting, but everyone knew she just needed some time. 

Morrigna tucked her ebon feathered wings and dove for the ground, brushing the treetops and then using her momentum to swoop back up. The wind whipping past her face was biting cold but Lys welcomed the cold for once: it was silent. Her head still throbbed, but she was used to that. She held tight to the saddle, let the griffon soar where she pleased and took the chance to enjoy the view. There was a cold beauty to Bjora Marches from this height, the svanir camps and the shattered Bear shrine below like festering wounds on the snowy jewel of the landscape. Off to the west, the dagger-sharp beauty of Aesgir’s Legacy was shrouded in low hanging storm clouds, a roiling threat on the horizon. 

“Commander.” Jory’s voice over the coms startled her, “I’m sorry to interrupt your scouting flight but we could use you at the keep.”

“What’s going on?” A subtle pressure from her right knee and a shift in her weight were all that was required for Morrigna to understand her request. The corvid griffin banked hard to the left, gaining speed with a mighty flap of her wings as the walls of Jora’s Keep rose ahead. “ … Jory?”

The coms opened again to a sharp background noise of raised voices and this time it was Jhavi who responded, “Just get here, please.” 

As if she sensed the urgency Morrigna dove hard, pulling up just short of the ground and then rocked back toward the sky, covering the remaining distance in a handful of heartbeats. The pair crested the walls to find a large crowd gathered in the courtyard. The griffon barely had time to tuck her wings back to her side as they landed before people began to press the commander. 

“I told you this would happen again!” A woman yelled, to the agreement of several others. “Of course it happened again.” A second answered. “We’ve said it would from the start.” 

Lys dismounted neatly and the griffon took wing, sailing up to land on the roof above and keep a sharp eye on things. “Alright, slow down. What’s going on?” A dozen voices all tried to answer at once. She held out her hands, gesturing for quiet and restated her question, “Jhavi. What’s going on?

“We have more missing, Commander. Jory and Braham are - “ 

The barracks door opened and Jory stepped out, interrupting Jhavi’s response, “There are five by my count.” She gave the commander a nod of greeting as she continued, “All Vigil. Two humans, an asura, sylvari, and a norn woman. Their beds are slept in, but empty.” 

“You can add two more to that,” Braham announced as he came down the mess hall steps. He looked nervous, Lys noticed, or … frustrated. “Kruve Grellson and Isvar Axebreaker. No one’s seen them since dinner last night.”

There was an immediate reaction from the crowd, voices raised and a fearful shuffling. “They’ve betrayed us again!” A dark-haired man from the back called out, “Why aren’t we watching the norn men?” another wondered none too quietly. Some physically moved away from norn they were standing near.

_“Their bonds are fragile. Such cowards …”_

There was nothing more unsettling than finding yourself agreeing with the whispers hissing in your head. She’d been here before, standing in the jungles of Maguuma with the Pact in flames around her. The voices raised against the norn sounded eerily similar to those raised against the sylvari. She’d be damned if she’d see this all play out again. 

“Let’s make something clear here.” Lys didn’t raise her voice but she had a well-honed skill for speaking so clearly, so confidently that people reacted as if she had. The look she threw around the gathered probably also helped. “Norn are no more susceptible to Jormag’s machinations than any of the rest of us, and this divisive fear-mongering is exactly what that dragon wants. We’re all Pact. We’re in this together.” She turned toward Braham, leaving no room for argument, “What do we know?”

Braham had crossed his arms over his broad chest, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You’ve already guessed that Kruve and Isvar are norn. They were in the common room till late, drinking and keeping to themselves. Talk says they were seen a couple days ago heading southwest like they were on patrol, but neither of them was on duty.” 

“Southwest?” Lys cast a quick side glance at Jory, “Toward the caverns?” 

Braham nodded, “Yeah, their unit wasn’t heading out until nightfall and they were supposed to be doing rounds near Bear’s shrine. So there was … some gossip.” 

She knew what he meant. Several people had been keeping ‘inventory’ on norn in the keep. That those people didn’t see fit to bring this concern to their superiors was … worrying. 

_“You are losing control.”_

The commander turned toward Jory, “Do the other missing have anything in common?”

“Nothing on first inspection, Commander.” Jory responded with a tilt of her head, “Other than all being Vigil, they were on different rotations, shared no similar backgrounds. Their bunks are not even near each other.”

“Commander!” A small voice interjected from the crowd and an asura elbowed his way through, trying to be seen. “Commander!” 

She recognized him, he’d been part of a squad that helped clear out a prison camp a while ago. “What is it, Mokk?”

“Please, Commander.” Mokk had finally made his way through the crowd and now stood in front of Lys where she could see the desperation on his face, “They’ve taken Zarri.”

“ _Another broken heart, another lost. You should save him from his pain …_ ”

Lys shook her head as if the dragon buzzing in her ear was a bothersome gnat. Zarri must be the asura Jory mentioned then. “We’re going after them, Mokk. I promise.” They had to move quickly if there was any hope of bringing people back. “Jory. Take Captain Jawspire and a group to the svanir camps. Don’t assume that the missing norn have betrayed us, but … be careful. Braham and I will lead a group southeast toward the caverns.” 

“You sure that’s smart, Commander?” The same dark-haired man who had spoken up earlier did so again. “Taking a norn, much less Vowbreaker, along with you I mean.”

Lys didn’t have to look at Braham to sense his spike of anger, it matched her own. Such needling wouldn't normally get to her, but after days of little sleep, under relentless assault, she was tired, stretched thin. She stared at the man, “There are few people in the world I trust more than Braham. And his name is not … Vowbreaker.” She spit the word out as if it tasted sour, “Is that understood?”

The commander’s tone left nothing open for discussion. The man simply nodded, throwing glares at a few snickers from nearby. 

_“That one will continue to sow discontent. Kill him.”_

Lys flenched, unable to completely hide her reaction to that one. She recovered quickly and was glad that the snickers were drawing attention away from her enough that no one seemed to have noticed. She sensed something behind her though and looked over her shoulder to find that Braham had quietly drawn nearer. He was frowning, giving her that concerned look that always made her pause. Damn him for watching her so closely. She gave him a subtle shake of her head, a silent communication between them as he touched her arm, fleetingly. 

“I’ll take a third group west toward the forest,” Jhavi stated, blessedly seeming not to notice the exchange.

Lys was happy for the change of subject. “We need you to stay here, Jhavi.”

Jhavi blinked, her tone incredulous, “These are my people, Commander. I can’t just sit by.”

“These are your people.” Lys agreed, nodding toward the gathered crowd, “And they need you to lead them. There’s a very real chance that the intention here is to divide us. You need to be in command here, in the Keep.”

“... we’ll hold the line.” Jhavi begrudgingly agreed. 

“Commander.” Mokk spoke up, “I’m coming with you.” 

Lys considered the asura with a frown, looking down at him. She wasn’t sure he was up for a mission like this but she’d been where he was right now; knew the gnawing, desperate, neutered terror he was feeling. She couldn’t make him stay behind. “Of course, Mokk.”

* * *

Braham and Jasper took point, the norn and the bear working to break a path through the freshly fallen snow for the group behind them. Aside from Mokk the commander picked Lessandro and his group to accompany them. If the Svanir were recreating the ritual they’d interrupted before, having people who wouldn’t need to overcome the initial shock and revulsion would be a benefit. Altogether there were two norn, four humans, an asura, and a bear making their way south toward the Ravenfrost Caverns. 

“Commander, we got tracks.” Braham stopped and Lys made her way forward, pausing to brush the snow from Jasper’s head as she neared. Their path had indeed intersected with someone else's.

“Several hours old, would you say?” She looked up at Braham.

“Yeah.” He agreed, “It’s been light snow, but last night was all wind. They’d have been covered if they were any older. Looks like a big group too.”

“Right. Let’s follow it then.” The commander started to turn toward the rest of the group to give orders but she saw something out of the corner of her eye and stopped. A flash of blue. Movement. 

_“They are here to greet you.”_

“Eyes up!” She called out, reaching for her bow just as the first of a half dozen Svanir stepped through the trees. There was a moment of stillness as each side took stock of the other, the expectant pause before the battle erupted with force. She felt Braham brush her shoulder as he spun to cover her flank and Jasper gave an angry roar as he bounded over the snowbank, charging straight for the nearest svanir. Lys sent an arrow streaking ahead of her bear. It stuck the svanir in the shoulder. He let out a guttural bellow of anger and didn’t notice the massive clawed paw heading toward his face until it was too late. Leaving her pet to do the work Lys spun quickly to her left, sending a rapid hail of arrows toward the enemies engaged with Lessandro, Mokk and the others. Two svanir already lay dead in the snow and based on the wet sounds and growls Jasper just added a third to the count. 

A sharp metallic crack rang out behind her and Lys spun around to see Braham recoiling from a blow to his shield. She braced herself, leaning into his back and kept him from losing his footing as he slid backward in the snow. The svanir he’d been engaged with took the opening and suddenly turned, bolting off toward the caverns

Braham growled, righted himself and charged right after him, calling over his shoulder “He’s going to raise the alarm!”

“Braham, wait! Don’t -” Lys yelled after him.

_“Follow him! If you hope to ever see him again.”_

She felt her blood run ice cold, watching Braham disappear into the trees. She had to follow him. 

_“You can’t let him go alone again.”_

Behind her, there was still a battle to be fought. The sound of Jasper’s paws on snow as he raced to join the fray, the crackle of the Elementalist's magics, the sharp cry of someone tumbling over into the snow. Growling with frustration she turned away from Braham’s fleeting form and loosed an arrow at the most beleaguered of the three remaining svanir, sending it through his neck. He crumpled like a wet sack. Mokk gave a yell of anger and dodged behind another, slicing the towering svanir in the back of the knee. 

_“Will you be able to live with yourself when he dies?”_

“Stuff it, dragon!” Lys yelled to seemingly no one, taking advantage of the opening Mokk created to help him finish off his adversary. The remaining two went down under the assault of the vigil members and finally, the woods fell silent. “Everyone in one piece?” Lys asked. 

“I believe so, Commander,” Lessandro answered, helping Mokk back to his feet. 

“Good.” The commander fairly snapped, poorly contained panic rising in her chest. “Quickly then, Braham is … being Braham.” 

They pushed on, following Braham’s trail as the trees gave way to a rocky incline. The wind carried the sounds of combat, the sharp crack of metal on metal, grunts, and growls of exertion, the familiar hum of Braham’s magics and then a sickening, wet thud ...and silence. 

_“Too late.”_

Lys took off, terror at her heels. She scrambled up the rock face, bounding from one ledge to the next until reaching the crest of the rise. Looking down into the small valley she saw the crumbled, shattered form of a svanir stained the snow with red and Braham standing over it, virtually unharmed. For now, she thought as she made her way down the hill, because she was going to kill him.

Braham looked up as commander neared, the rest of their party still a distance behind. “Sorry, Commander. I wasn’t fast enough.” He frowned, glanced over at the shimmering Raven barrier blocking the entrance to the caverns nearby. “The whole place knows we’re here now.” 

She took a deep breath, then a few more. “Braham. That was … I’m glad you’re alright.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish, “I did kinda run off again didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.” Everyone else had caught up, so she left it at that. She wasn’t fully in control of her emotions, couldn’t tell which were hers and which were prompted by Jormag’s taunts but either way, here and now wasn’t the time to let her weakness get the better of her. 

“They’ve got the barrier back up …” Observed one of Lessandro’s group, a dark-haired Raven shamaness. Inge, if the commander remembered her name right.

“We can assume they’re up to no good, then.” Lys agreed, turning to give orders. “I’ll use the lens to lower the barrier. Once we’re in, stick together. No matter what you hear or what you think you see, we move as one. Understood?” She looked pointedly at Braham. 

“I’m - we’re at your side, Commander.” Braham nodded, echoed by the others. 

According to old maps, these caves had once been an open natural passage from the southern mountains to what was now the Aberrant Forest, but with the awakening of Jormag, they had grown into an ever-shifting maze of ice. The entrance was cavernous, jagged icicles loomed high overhead like impending teeth. The walls and floors were solid ice, some natural but most formed of unnaturally dark corrupted ice, teeming with Jormag’s magic. It seemed almost to move, bent the light in unsettling ways. The effect on such a large space was disorienting. Sound too echoed oddly, they could hear voices and rustling, the resonating thrum of magic but it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. Lys took the lead, she remembered clearly where the central cavern was, but she kept her pace careful. When walking into a trap it was a bad idea to rush. 

“Welcome, Commander!” A voice suddenly boomed seemingly from overhead. It sent all of them reaching for their weapons, searching for the origin. No one was there. “You are not Jorasdottir, but Dragon welcomes you anyway.” 

Braham had moved ahead of the commander, giving her a clear view of the anger on his face, “Isvar, I’d guess. Sounds like him.” 

“Oh!” The voice replied with a hearty laugh, “And you’ve brought Vowbreaker with you. Of course, he’s always hiding behind your skirts. Good, Dragon has a special place for him.” 

“Don’t listen to him, Braham.” Lys spoke encouragingly under her breath, “... you know I never wear skirts.” 

Braham glanced at her, blinking several times before breaking into a slow grin. “Shall we bash some svanir heads, Commander?”

“We should politely request our people back, yes.” She nodded once, turned to the rest of the group behind her. “Shall we show them how the Vigil responds to traitors?”

Lys lead them forward, up a winding incline that doubled back on itself several times until they reached the main room. As they neared she signaled their silence, stopping near the last bend in the path. Ahead they could see three figures each lashed to an upright post at equal intervals, just like the ritual she and Jory had interrupted before. A half dozen svanir and one massive icebrood moved between the captives and a totem-shaped ice formation that glowed with a sickly green light. Sounds of movement and chanting out of sight left an accurate count of what they were up against as a guess at best. 

“Tell me, Commander.” The taunting voice resonated just as before, this time it was coming from the side of the room they were unable to see. “Have you borne any sons?” 

Braham looked over at her, brow arched in confusion.

Lys sneered. She’d heard this svanir taunt before. The next implication would be that as a woman her only usefulness was birthing sons, and since she hadn’t, she was less than useless. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of following along. “I have not, Isvar. But I have seen the svanir transformation ritual firsthand. The pain will be unbearable, and in the end, you will be nothing more than that grunting monstrosity next to you.” She paused, letting her words sink in. She heard whispers, Isvar was arguing with someone. “Did Jormag not tell you that? You will lose yourself under a torrent of ceaseless pain. You will be nothing more than an empty husk that will shatter against Pact steel before the end of the week.”

“Silence!” The voice was sharp with anger, “Dragon’s gift is one we gladly accept. Better that than to rot in fear hiding behind cowards! You know nothing of what struggle so uselessly against.” 

Lys ignored the tirade, using the chance to slip forward enough to confirm her memory of the cavern. There was a small ledge on the south side, accessed by a branch in the path farther back. She gestured to the group, indicating they should stay where they were and adjusted the grip on her bow. She looked at Braham, nodding toward the room and made a talking gesture with her fingers. A nod from him confirmed he understood what she meant - keep the hot head talking and distracted. Jasper turned to follow her but she shook her head, gave him a scratch on his cheek.

“Who are you hiding behind now, Axebreaker?” Braham’s taunted as Lys slipped away, “Cause looks to me like it’s two women and an asura. Why don’t you step out and face me like a man? Find out how strong you really are.” 

That seemed to hit a button, based on the roaring response that carried down to Lys as she found the side passage she remembered and began picking her away along the precarious edge, keeping tight to the shadows. Reaching the end, she got a clear view of the room below. There were ten svanir, along with the hulking icebrood that she’d glimpsed from the entrance. Isvar was standing in the center of the room along with another norn who she assumed was Kruve. Isvar was doing all the talking, but it was the other norn that seemed to be communicating with the svanir, aiding them in whatever it was they were preparing. She could see their missing as well, three tied to stakes and two worryingly crumpled forms in the far corner.

“You’ll leave a lasting legend as the hundredth brainless svanir to mess my boots this week, Isvar.” Braham was still doing an admirable job riling him, the attention of the whole group had shifted toward the argument. 

The commander silently knocked an arrow, drew back her bow and slowed her breathing, her eyes following Isvar as he paced, waiting for the compromised norn to give her a clear shot. 

“You think I’m afraid of a toothless, Vowbreaker? Come find me when you manage to become the wolf and we’ll -” His taunt was silenced by an arrow to his throat. 

There was a moment of stunned silence as Isvar clutched his neck, eyes wide with panic and confusion as he gurgled his lifesblood. Kruve cried out and several svanir spun toward the hidden assailant, toward Lys, but that was the distraction needed as the rest of the party broke cover and rushed the room.

Braham lead the charge, heading straight for the biggest threat - the massive icebrood goliath. From her perch above Lys could see Lessandro and two others engaging with the svanir, while Mokk and Inge worked to free their people. A couple of well-placed arrows covered Mokk as he helped a limping Zarri back down the passage. 

A svanir caster launched a torrent of ice at the ledge, forcing the commander to scramble backward and out of sight to avoid the jagged spikes of magic pummeling the ground. The attack ceased suddenly, accompanied by a bellow of pain and a sharp avian caw of anger. Taking position again Lys saw the shamaness in raven form engaging her previous attacker. She pulled another arrow from her quiver and intended to help but an all too painfully familiar bellow drew her attention sharply away. 

Braham was down on one knee before the icebrood, blood pouring from a gaping wound in his shoulder down his now useless shield arm. The goliath loomed over him, maul of a fist raised over it’s head, poised to end the kneeling norn before he could find his feet. 

Lys dropped her bow, letting it clatter forgotten to the ground as she reached for her staff. She focused on where she belonged in the natural order of things: standing between Braham and that icebrood. Nature corrected the mistake and suddenly she wasn’t on the ledge far above, she was a wisp of light, streaking forward to her proper place. The commander regained her form in a burst of healing starlight, leaves trailing in her wake as she rose to stand in front of Braham

“No!” She barked the command with such force that her next spell didn’t require a gesture. A wave of cosmic energy sent the icebrood sliding backward, giving her the opening she needed to help Braham to his feet. Her arrival method had healed the worst of his wounds, but he was still covered in blood. 

There was no time for worrying though as the goliath had regained his senses and was quite angry. Braham nodded his thanks and stepped in front of the commander. She fell in behind him, wordlessly. They’d fought together for long, no words were needed. Even shieldless Braham charged forward, swinging his mace wide at the solid ice of the goliath's leg. He felt warmth on his back, like the comfort of a summer’s sun but while the commander’s magics were healing for him, the icebrood crackled with rage under the burning assault. He let the momentum of his swing bring the mace back toward the goliath's other leg and a sudden ursine form came barreling out from the side as Jasper took advantage. The goliath’s crystalline legs shattered, bringing it crashing to the ground as bear and norn worked to finish it off.

They’d won. Kruve and Isvar both lay dead among the svanir, the icebrood in pieces on the ground. Lys quickly took stock of her party. The shamaness’ feathers were stained with blood, but most of it didn’t seem to be hers. Everyone was on their feet … other than the two vigil forms in the corner. She felt a sickening dread as she approached them. 

What had once been a human man and a sylvari woman lay in a broken heap, tossed to the side like so much trash. His head was matted with blood, features barely visible beneath the gore. The sylvari was twisted, her limbs at unnatural angles and her face … she’d died in great pain. Lys wanted to turn away from it, but she forced herself to look. To do them the honor of understanding how their lives ended. 

_“So much blood on your hands.”_

She nodded. The sylvari had been a deep green, like Trahaerne. And now she was dead, so far from home. She’s left the embrace of the Pale Tree and died here in a cave in the middle of nowhere for … for what?

_“For the Pact’s conceit. For you.”_

The commander nodded again. All these people looked to her, counted on her. And what had she done to keep them safe?

_“It’s your fault.”_

“My fault …” She echoed quietly, her vision swimming as she looked down at the remains.

“Commander? You alright?” Lys gave a start, turning to find Braham standing next to her. He glanced down at the corpses with a pained expression. 

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s …” The commander swallowed hard and finally turned away, “Let’s get our wounded back to the Keep. We’ll ... return for the fallen …” 

Lessanto and Inge each took one of the survivors, with Mokk supported a dazed-looking Zarri as they began their descent. Lys lingered a moment, finally following the rest of the group but kept a distance away as they made their way back down the passage. Leaving almost hurt. 

“… please, someone!” The commander stopped in her tracks. It was faint, distant, but someone was there. Calling for her. Without a word, forgetting even that there were others with her, Lys turned and followed the voice. 

“Someone … anyone.” Whoever it was sounded young, their wavering voice caught with a sob that pierced the commander's heart. “I don’t want to go to the ice.”

“You’re not alone!” Lys called out, taking a sharp turn down a lower passage she’d walked by unnoticed before. The way was uneven, boulders of ice blocked her descent but she pushed on. “Keep talking, I’m trying to find you.” 

“It’s here, it’s here! Commander, help me!” The little voice turned to panic. Lys was spurred on, half running, half sliding down a steep bank of ice as she yelled a response, “I’m here! I promise. Just hang on.” She’d lost all track of where she was, she couldn’t even see beyond the haze of shadows and flickers of light ahead of her but she couldn’t. She couldn’t lose another. She charged blindly forward. She had to find them before -

A strong hand wrapped around her arm jerked her backward. What … who? Lys spun around, lashed out wildly toward whoever had grabbed her. 

The voice in need drowned out all sound, thrummed in her ears as if it was carried in her blood as it cried, “Don’t leave me, I don’t want to die!”

She lunged forward, broke free from her attacker and tried to run toward the voice but a pair of arms wrapped around her waist lifted her bodily from the ground. “Stop!” She yelled, desperately fighting to free herself, “I have to help them!” 

“Commander, please!” Braham struggled with the flailing woman but managed finally to pin her arms to her side, clutching her against him. He’d barely caught sight of the Lys as she slipped away earlier. When he called out, she hadn’t answered and he knew instantly that something was wrong. He’d trailed frustratingly behind the quicker ranger, heard her yelling to no one as he tried to catch up. “Listen to me! There’s no one there.” 

Lys continued to fight, kicking her feet up and off the wall. She sent Braham backward, smacking sharply against the solid side of the passageway. 

“Commander! - Oof.” He grunted in pain but didn’t let go. “It’s me, it’s Braham. Stop fighting and listen! There’s no one there, it’s Jormag’s tricks.” 

The commander stilled. The sobs and pleas still wrang in her ears, the walls around her loomed so large they pressed in her, blocked her sight. But Braham’s voice cut through. 

“Please….” He lowered his voice, spoke into her ear as her thrashing stopped. “Stay with me, Lys.”

“I’m …” She started to speak but stopped in confusion as she heard her voice crack. “Where … what’s going on?”

Braham didn’t loosen his hold, but he did lower her back to the ground. “We’re still in the caverns. Whatever you think you’re hearing, Commander, it isn’t real.” 

“I hear them though. They right there - I can’t …” Her vision was starting to clear, like when your eyes adjust to bright light, sparkles and specks as the haze of shadow dapples away, but the sobs and pleas still echoed around her. “I can’t let someone else die because of my failures. Not again, I … “

“Your … failures?” Braham blinked in confusion. “Who do you think you are? Me?” His hold on the commander shifted. He still didn’t trust her not to bolt but he was less clutching her and more embracing her now, his chin resting on her shoulder as he spoke. “You haven’t failed anyone, Commander. You have always done your best, no matter the cost or the odds and you know that. This isn’t like you. This is Jormag.”

Lys squeezed her eyes shut then opened them again, blinking rapidly as she saw where she was. They were standing in a narrow passage of ice, barely high enough for Braham to stand upright. Behind them the path rose sharply upwards and not fifty feet away, right where she had been so desperately running towards, it plummeted suddenly into darkness. 

Braham followed her gaze toward the ledge, “Yeah … yeah, that’s why I’m not letting you go.”

“Braham, I’m ... “ She let out a shaking breath, wondered with a start how long she had been crying. 

“Are you with me now? If I let you go you won’t bolt?” He turned to try to see her face. “Because if you leap off that ledge I’m jumping right after you.”

She couldn’t look at him. All she could manage was a nod. Her hands hurt and looking down she found them to be bleeding, covered in cuts from sharp ice she must have blindly climbed over. She couldn’t remember any of it. She felt weak, drained and above all deeply ashamed. 

Braham turned, putting his back to the ledge and moving the commander to face the way back. He finally, reluctantly released her but laid his hands on her shoulders in a steadying gesture. A worried ursine grumble echoed off the walls and Lys looked up to see Jasper pacing at the top of the incline, trying to find a way down to her. Braham followed her gaze up and spoke gently, “Come on. Let’s get you back to the keep, it’s not just your bear that’s worried.” 


	5. Needful Things *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The commander prefers to suffer alone but with encouragement from Jory, Braham refuses to let her. Needful things drive off the cold for one night at least. 
> 
> Featuring that smut I promised in the tag.

It was cold. Not that it wasn’t always cold in the Marches, but it became especially cold when you’ve been standing outside for several hours. Even a norn started to feel the bite of the wind. Braham was lingering near the barracks, watching the storage building as he had been since they’d returned from the Ravenfrost Caverns. He’d long since run out of things to do to make it look like he wasn’t waiting on the commander so he’d stopped pretending - he was absolutely waiting on the commander and he was worried. 

The sound of the barracks door opening shook his frazzled nerves and he turned a bit more aggressively than he’d intended, prompting an amused Jory to take a step back with her hands up in apology. She chuckled as Braham relaxed again and walked over to join him, “She’s still in there, I take it?” 

“Yeah,” He fidgeted, rubbed his still aching shoulder but didn’t take his eyes off the building. “She kicked everyone out just after we got back. Said she had work to do.” 

Jory smirked, “And you’ve just been … making sure that corner of the barracks wall stays standing since then?”

“Not really … in the mood, Jory.” Braham crossed his arms, “You know she just about jumped to her death earlier?”

Jory exhaled, frowned as she considered the norn. His devotion was cute, but if she left him like this she was pretty sure she’d find him still standing there in the morning. “Can I give you some advice?”

“... I could probably use it.” He begrudged. 

Jory took a quiet breath, “When we say we want to be alone is often when we least need to be.” She gave him an encouraging nudge, “It’s getting cold. You should bring her a blanket.” 

Braham glanced at Jory doubtfully, “You think she’d want to see me?”

“This place is … exhausting. I’d give anything to see Kas right now. So yeah, I think she wants to see you.”

“I’m not …” He sputtered at the comparison, “You and Kas. The commander and I aren’t …”

“Yeah yeah.” Jory chuckled knowingly, “Bring her a blanket, Braham. Trust me.”   
  


* * *

A few minutes later Braham was standing on the bottom of the steps, nervously refolding a blanket and feeling like an idiot. She’d chased everyone out, left clear orders not to be bothered… why did he think that he was exempt?

The door creaked loudly as it opened, a gust of snow following him across the threshold. Inside it was quiet and dim, the only light filtering through the frost-covered windows. He didn’t even see the commander at first. 

Tucked in one corner, half-hidden by several crates, was a scattered pile of furs, extra bedding awaiting new cots in the barracks. The commander was sitting cross-legged among them. Her armor and weapons were thrown haphazardly on the opposite side of the room, leaving her sitting in this cold in nothing but her Priory-blue tunic and grey leggings. She must have heard Braham enter, but she didn’t look up. 

“Aren’t you cold?” He asked quietly. It was a dumb question, of course, she was. It was freezing and she was a human, sitting here in a drafty building with no fire. 

Lys answered without looking up, “Mmm.” 

Braham walked toward her with a heavy sigh and knelt down among the furs, unfolding the blanket and gently draped it around her. He let his hands rest on her shoulders, but still, she barely stirred. He’d seen the commander break down once before, stood beside her while she fell apart after Aurene died. It had been him who helped her to her feet and finally guided her away from the brutalized remains of her dragon. He’d seen her sob, he’d seen her cry out in grief … but this was different. She was cold and quiet and it scared him. 

He stood back up but knew he wasn’t going anywhere tonight. Jory was right, the commander didn’t need to be alone right now. He pulled off his gloves, shrugged out of his pauldrons and tossed both over to join the commander’s things. Now comfortable, he made his intentions clear by pushing several of the furs back toward the wall, making room to sit down next to the commander. 

Lys didn’t protest, she seemed barely to have even noticed his presence. Though after several long moments of silence, she exhaled slowly and finally spoke, “... how is your shoulder?” 

It was good to hear her voice. “Bit tinder, but I’ll survive” He responded while rolling his left shoulder with a slight wince, “Healers here just had to clean me up, your magics did most of the work … how are your hands?”

She extracted her hands from the blanket, flexed her fingers against the cold and sighed down at her open palms. Faint lines of red were the only remaining signs of her wounds, "Just a lingering sting, I’m fine.”

Braham took her hands in his, they were like ice. He leaned down, trying to see her face as he gently asked, “... are you?” 

“I’m alright.” She shook her head, squeezed his hand as she corrected, “I’ll be alright.” 

It was the answer he expected, honestly. With a sigh he reached out and touched her chin, lifting her face to look up at him. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, but he spoke as quietly as if she had, “It’s just you and me here. Can you … not be the commander? Can you just be Lys? And I’ll just be Braham. For tonight?” 

As he made his request she finally met his gaze. Her eyes were swimming with tears, her bottom lip beginning to tremble and then she moved so quickly he didn’t have time to process what she was doing. The blanket tumbled to the floor her arms were around his neck and her face buried in his shoulder. “No,” Her voice quivered as she spoke, “I’m not alright.”

He embraced her instantly. “I know.” She was shaking and it took him a moment to realize that she was crying, sobbing silently. He tightened his hold on her, one arm around her waist and the other around her back. “I know.”

“It just …” Lys hiccuped, suppressing a sob before she continued, “It just never, never shuts up. Right now, I have to focus to hear you because the whispers are relentless. I can’t sleep, I can’t think. I can’t … tell what’s real anymore and I’m so sorry, Braham.” She hugged him tightly, shifting to press her face against the warmth of his neck. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey … hey.” Braham sighed. All the times he’d dreamed of holding her, but he never wanted it to be like this. “You don’t have a thing to be sorry about. You’re mortal, just like the rest of us, Lys. We’ve all struggled out here, and that fucking dragon hasn’t targeted anyone else like they have you. You should have … you should have told us.”

“I know.” Her voice broke as she spoke, “I promised you I would lean on you more, that’s part of why I’m sorry. I just thought …” She released him and sat back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She felt like such a fool, blubbering like this. “I didn’t want to add to everyone’s burdens. I thought I could do it. And then today … I shouldn’t have broke like that. I should be better. I’m just so ... tired.”

As she leaned back, he leaned forward, cupped her face in his hands and gently wiped away the damp trails on her cheek with his thumb. She gave a half-hearted smile, which only highlighted the dark circles under her eyes and the lack of color in her cheeks. Why hadn’t he noticed that she was exhausted? “How long has it been since you had a good night’s sleep?” He asked. 

“Honestly, I … “ Lys gave a slight shake of her head, “... don’t remember. I’m afraid to close my eyes. If it isn’t awful nightmares, it’s the kind voice telling me to rest, to just never wake. I’ve barely slept.” 

Just like her. Pushes herself to a physical breaking point while under the kind of mental assault that would crush most people and when she finally succumbs after weeks … she’s sorry. 

“You always push yourself too hard. The rest of us are here, you know? We can take some of your burden.” As he admonished her, Braham slipped his arm around the commander’s waist and swiftly lifted her up, before she could protest, and settled back against the wall with her in his lap. 

“Braham …” She wasn’t protesting, or even scolding, really. 

His other arm slipped around her back and he drew her closer. He wasn’t quite laying down, leaning back against the wall, but the way he was clutching her, the way he’d positioned her body over his, he didn’t need to look down to see her. “Yeah?”

She gazed at him, reaching out to lightly touch his cheek as she spoke, her voice soft. “... thank you.”

He kept his eyes on hers, tried not to think about how the only part of her not touching him at the moment was her lips. He wondered if he kissed her, would that shut the dragon up? If she welcomed his kiss, would she let his hands explore her body? Would her whimpers and cries of pleasure drive the whispers away? The thought made him squirm and he realized that Lys was looking at him curiously. He swallowed hard and settled for planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Just you and me here, Lys.”

She knew that he meant it as comforting reassurance, but she wasn’t quite so exhausted that she couldn’t register the meaning behind the way he had just squirmed. She slipped her hands inside his coat, wrapped her arms around his bare waist as she laid down with her head resting against his chest. “Just for tonight …” She echoed, mostly to herself. Just for tonight, she’d allow herself this, and this would be enough. She wouldn’t think about Braham pinning her to the furs beneath them, wouldn’t think about the warmth of his breath on her ear as he panted with pleasure, wouldn’t think about struggling not to cry out his name for the whole keep to hear. She wouldn’t think of those things, she told herself as she thought those things. 

The commander was perfectly quiet as she rested against him but she was kneading her fingers into his back like a cat and the feeling of her nails on his skin was … distracting. He brushed her dark blonde hair back over her shoulder and began to lightly caress her neck, his fingertips barely grazing her skin. Just for tonight, she said … just for tonight. “Lys?” He whispered. 

“Yes?” She answered quietly, becoming aware of what she was doing with her hands. She stopped, sheepishly. 

Don’t stop, he begged silently, but spoke very much otherwise, “ … get some rest.” 

She turned her face to nuzzle against his chest. The way his heart was pounding left no doubt as to what was happening between them right now, in this moment. He was so warm, and he smelled so good … beneath her, Braham squirmed again and his light touch on her neck continued up to trace the ridge of her ear. Rest, he said, while touching her like this. Didn’t he realize what his affections did to her? No, she thought, probably not. This was Braham, after all. She pressed her palms against his muscular back, her hands sliding down toward his waist as she brushed her lips against the center of his chest, the barest ghost of a kiss.

Braham inhaled sharply, immediately cursing himself for not being able to control his reaction to her small affections. He couldn’t help it. He knew, without a doubt, that he didn’t deserve to be this close to the commander, but that didn’t extinguish his longing for her for a moment. And here she was, her body draped across his, her hands wandering over his skin. She didn’t know, couldn’t know, what she was doing to him … 

She should stop. She wasn’t in the right state of mind to be making choices like the one she was considering. This wasn’t the place to let go. But then Braham gasped and the sound of his vulnerability, of his desire, clouded her judgment further. She clutched at his sides, pushed down against his hips as she slid her body upwards and pressed her lips against the hollow of his throat. 

“Lys …” He groaned her name. Was this woman writhing against him really the commander? That was her kissing his neck? Was he dreaming? He laced one hand in her hair, the other pressed to the small of her back. “This is … ” 

“I should stop …” She gave a quiet moan and did no such thing. Her lips found the soft spot above his collarbone and lingered there. 

“You should -” His breath hitched in his throat. He didn’t want her to stop, he couldn’t remember when he’d wanted anything more than for her not to stop. He came here to comfort, not to take advantage but the commander's warm lips on the curve of his shoulder made it difficult to remember that. His hand slid down from her back, boldly following the shapely curve of her ass as he reached for the back of her thigh, lifting her knee up to settle her hips down squarely on his leg. “ - you should tell me what you need, Lys. If you need me to stop you, I will." He tugged at her hair, bent to whisper in her ear, "But if you need ….me, I’m right here” 

“I need …” His touch, the way he kneaded her thigh as he moved her into a more intimate position elicited a groan from the commander. She rested her head against his neck and rolled her hips against his, the sensation of herself rubbing against his leg making her shiver. What did she need? She hardly knew, “I need to feel.”

He let go of her hair and grabbed her other thigh, holding her against him as he shifted to sit up, placing her knees on either side of his hips. He looked at her, searching her eyes. There was still exhaustion there, but he saw the heat he was feeling reflected as well. He furrowed his brow, silently questioning as he dragged his thumb along her bottom lip. Her subtle nod was all he needed. He slid his hand back to cradle her head, fingers tangling into her hair again and hesitated as he leaned in ...their first kiss had been sudden, needful and unexpected. Their second would be slow, purposeful and savored. 

She froze, shivering in anticipation as Braham’s lips brushed hers - feather-light. She tried to chase his affections but he held her still until she lifted her eyes to meet his. How many times in all their years had she admired the green of his eyes? She’d certainly never seen him look at her this way before. His gaze was steady and so full of emotion that she forgot everything. Forgot the whispers and the cold, the desperation and exhaustion and loss. Nothing else in the world existed at this moment but the two of them.

He lingered, savoring the sound of her shortened breath, hoping that she understood what he was saying without speaking. He couldn’t find the words now, even if he were brave enough to say them. He glanced down at her lips, hesitating only a moment longer before he finally kissed her. 

Lys was certain that the world had just dropped out from under her. Braham’s kiss was so gentle, so slow and deliberate. The taste of him … she felt drunk. Her arms found their way around his neck and she rose on her knees, leaning against him as she returned his kiss with abandon. He responded by deepening the kiss, his lips locked to hers as he fumbled blindly with the button of her pants. 

He was … Gods above, this was happening. She groaned, encouraging him by sliding her tongue into his mouth. 

He lost track of what he was doing, the commander’s tongue searching for his made his hard to concentrate. He managed the damnable button and tugged on the waist of her pants. 

She broke the kiss enough to whisper, “Please …” 

Braham ached for her absent lips. He leaned forward and found her, kissing her again as he slid his hand into her pants and made a sound somewhere between a groan and a purr. She was … she was so warm, and already so wet. And the way she gasped at his touch, the way she tilted her head back… he could barely take it. “You’re so soft, Lys …” He kissed her exposed throat, held her against him with his free arm while he teased her delicate folds. 

“Braham.” She groaned his name and made the most alluring whimpering sound. 

“Yes?” He purred as he traced her opening, hoping she’d make that sound again.

‘P-Please.” She grasped helplessly at his shoulders as she shifted her knees, spreading her legs wider for him. Desperate and needful had been their first kiss, and apparently, so would this be. 

Spirits, he’d never imagined she could be so … it was driving him wild. “Say my name like that again,” He growled, “And I’ll give you what you want.” 

She obeyed without hesitation, leaned down to moan into his ear, “Braham … please.” 

He growled again, low and rumbling in his throat as he plunged his finger into her, rolling his thumb over her clit as he did. Lys gasped, making no attempt to hide her eagerness as she rolled her hips to meet his hand, setting the rhythm of his strokes herself.

Braham watched in amazement as the Dragon Slayer, the God Killer, the hero of Tyria tossed her head back and moaned. Her breath came in rhythm to his strokes, then struggled to keep any rhythm at all as he curved his finger inside her, found the delicate spot. "Lys … Sprits, you’re beautiful.”

“Gods, yes …” She didn’t realize just how badly she wanted Braham until this moment, leaning helplessly against him as he fingered her. She was gasping and whining, clutching at his shoulders as she ground desperately against his hand. Needful. 

“Lys …” He practically hissed her name, holding her still with his arm around her waist as he stilled his strokes and slowly pulled his hand back, nearly leaving her. 

She squirmed as she looked down at him, her quickened breath coming in gasps. 

This wasn’t The Pact Commander, and he was so glad of it. Right now, tonight, she was just Lys. And she was his. “Tell me what you want?” 

You, she thought. She wanted him. Tonight and always and it was terrifying how badly. She let her forehead rest against his, desperately trying to piece together her thoughts. She could only whimper, “More.” 

Braham gladly obliged. He buried a second finger inside her, waiting until her gasps, and the way she bucked against his hand, insured him he wasn’t hurting her before he gave her what she wanted, sliding his fingers into her silken depths over and over. She was panting and whining, quivering with each rough stroke and he could feel her beginning to tighten and spasm.

“Braham, I’m …” The first shudders of pleasure interrupted her, heightened by Braham rubbing his thumb over her clit. She grasps at his arms, her nails digging into the dark brown leather of his coat.

“Please …” He groaned and pulled her tightly against him, breathing hotly in her ear, “Please, Lys.” 

Waves of pleasure sent her burying her face in Braham’s neck, muffling her sharp cries and gasps. He clutched her close, panting and groaning along with her. His hand pressed tight to her, coaxing every moment of pleasure until with one last gasping quake, she stilled. As she lay panting for breath against him, he kissed her again, shivering a bit himself as he pulled his hand away. 

She returned his kiss, languid and slow and then collapsed against him, curling up on his chest. She was more exhausted than she’d ever been in her life but she was so warm and so … happy. She felt as if she were floating. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath. “... thank you.” 

“You …” He laughed softly, kissing her sweat-dampened forehead. “You do not have to thank me.” His fingers were slick with her and as much as he wanted to make the orgasm she’d just had the first of many tonight, he was content. 

“Mmm.” It wasn’t much of a reply, but as she caught her breath and the last shiver receded she realized how utterly exhausted she was. Her hands clutching the fur of his coat as she curled up against him. 

“Lys?” He whispered softly as he looked down at her, watching as she drifted off to what he hoped was blissful sleep. 

She didn’t reply, but that was what he’d hoped, given what he was about to say. He hugged her close, resting his cheek on the top of her head and closed his eyes. The thought of letting her go, of waking tomorrow and finding her gone, of going back to how things had always been and pretending that nothing had happened between them ... hurt. He gently pressed his lips to her forehead, closing his eyes and enjoying her nearness as he whispered into her hair, “Please don’t let this be just for tonight.”

He fell asleep praying that same request to the spirits. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, err, I did not plan for this chapter to go the way it did but after a bunch of internal debate, I decided to give these two what they wanted. For the moment. 
> 
> Update! Before moving on to the next chapter, I've written a bit of a bonus short fic that fits between Chapter 5 and 6. You can read it here: [By Morning Light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23373913)


	6. Outrunning Prophecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of solitude gives Lys time to begin to work through the events of a very long few days. Takes place at the start of The Hunt Begins.

She barely noticed the warmth of the fire as she passed by it again. The sound of raised voices, kodan, and norn, coming from nearby went mostly unheard as well. The commander chided herself for not at least listening to the conversation, but she had too much on her mind to deal with bickering right now. Jhavi could handle it. 

This day could not have gone less how she had imagined it would, beginning as it did by waking up Braham’s arms. There had barely been time to admire his sleeping face before fate had sent them spiraling into their current situation. Her pacing slowed and her mind wandered toward the memory of heated touches, the sound of his moans in her ear, how eager he’d been to please her … she shook her head, chasing off the distraction. All the weeks they’d spent lingering around Jora’s Keep trying to find a way west. Why did it have to happen today? And why didn’t Braham wait for her? Rushing ahead wasn’t exactly new for him, but specifically today he should have waited for her. They hadn’t had a moment to talk and all she’d done basically all day was worry over him. How many times in a single day can one man make you chase after him? Her pacing paused and she scowled to herself. Why was she dwelling on being mad at Braham when there were so many more important things to worry over?

Because that was the easiest anger to deal with right now.

“The creature will only heal itself, as long as the dragon’s magic powers the totems.” Cloudseeker’s voice carried over to where Lys paced, discussing some aspect of their plan, but she remembered his voice in another moment.

“I … miss her.” He’d said, speaking of their lost Voice. His tone had felt like too familiar daggers and she’d been compelled to lay her hand on the kodan’s arm.

“You never stop missing them.” As she spoke she thought of Trahaerne's smile, tried to remember the sound of his laugh. “The world will always feel wrong without them. But we have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and move forward. For the good of what they worked so hard to protect.”

Cloudseeker had laid his massive paw over her hand and thanked her. Sharing the pain of loss didn’t lessen it, but the burden was easier to carry with others. That pain was just as new and sharp now, pacing through the center of Still Waters Speaking, as it had been the day that she’d lost him. She swallowed it down, tried not to remember and renewed her pacing with a vengeance.

Braham had been incredible today. It was hard to think that the man she watched stand before the corrupted spirits and demand their aid, who stood tall under their derision and attacks, was the same boy who’d charged headlong at Scarlet so long ago. The same who’d heaped his anger and ego on her shoulders and bullheadedly rushed off to prove himself, to everyone’s folly. But all of those moments, the good and the awful had led up to this … this incredible man proclaiming without fear that he knew himself; knew who he was and who he had become. She wished that she had that conviction, to embrace her mistakes so readily. Not to move past them, but to carry them without being crushed beneath them. To forgive yourself. How did he manage that?

As she paced she began to wring her hands, clutching and turning her fingers over in her grip. Thinking of Braham had gotten so complicated. When did he … when did he begin to claim the place in her heart she’d tried so hard to cut out? The part of her she was certain had long ago burnt to cinders or been hidden so far away that it could never be found. When did this happen? There wasn’t room in the Pact Commander’s life for something as selfish and dangerous as romantic love. She couldn’t love anyone, but she very specifically could not love Braham.

“You cracked the Fang of the Serpent. Fate now decrees you will either slay Jormag or fall to Jormag.” The memory of Wolf’s voice echoing in her mind brought her pacing to a stop.

A thought rang through her mind like the shattering tone of a bell … what if they failed? 

What if he fell?

Physically she was still standing in the middle of Still Waters Speaking with snow dusting her hair and a fire crackling nearby but her nightmare stood before her. She saw Braham, the rich dark tone of his skin faded blue with frost. The strength of his broad shoulders twisted by cords of ice, his face shattered by shards of blue. What remained of Braham, what hadn’t been made unrecognizable by the dragon, stared back at her with empty eyes.

“You are a norn of prophecy….” Wolf continued.

Prophecy! The word sent her blood to boiling even as her eyes stared at the horrifying phantom in her mind. She knew a thing or two about prophecy. Prophecy decreed Aurene to suffer and to die, and so it was. Prophecy had set Trahaerne on his path to cleanse Orr and she had followed him, stood beside him as he fulfilled that destiny. Delayed his happiness, their happiness, until the work was done. And what had it earned him? Torture. Suffering. Whispered words between them in his final moments of lucidity as she still held the sword she’d thrust into him. She’d killed a part of herself when she killed him.

The memory of Trahaerne’s death melded with the phantom in her mind’s eye and she froze.

What if she had to kill him too? 

What if she had to watch the light in Braham’s eyes fade, listen to his last gasps, as her hands stained red with his blood? What if hearing him die in Raven’s Sanctum had been a prophecy?

Never.

Her body rejected the idea as violently as her mind and her heart did and she stumbled, would have fallen to the ground if a strong arm hadn't been there to catch her.

“Hey! Hey … Commander, you alright?” Braham held her by the waist, his brow knit and his eyes full of concern.

“B-Braham.” She swallowed down her terror as best she could, willed herself to lock it away and laid a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“... you okay?” He lowered his voice, speaking so only she could hear. “Lean on me if you need to. You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I … sort of did. I’m alright, just thinking of things I shouldn’t.” She shook her head and cleared her throat, tried to sound normal. Her hand lowered from his shoulder and she quickly changed the subject as she regained her feet. “How are you doing? Are you ready for this?”

Braham’s frown only deepened as she withdrew from his embrace, his arm slipping from her waist. He shook his head, “I don't know. Wolf seems to think so.”

“Well, I agree with Wolf. You’ve got this.” Lys gave him a smile, touched the sleeve of his coat. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Not behind me.” He laid his hand over hers, intwining their fingers as he looked down into her eyes, “Beside me?”

They’d had this exchange before, what felt like a lifetime ago. She looked back at him, at this remarkable man she’d grown to care for so much and saw herself reflected in the emerald of his eyes. “Beside you, Braham.” She softly replied.

And silently, she added to herself …

To the end.


	7. Fading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The commander fights for her life after Bangar's attack.

It hurt more this time. Dying. 

Maybe it was the shock of it. Maybe it was what bow fired the arrow now piercing her ribs, the irony of which wasn’t lost on her even as the searing heat overwhelmed her senses. The fire blossomed from the center of her chest, scorched it’s way up her throat. Every nerve was screaming in anguish as her flesh charred, as blood spilled from the ragged wound, colored the ice beneath her. It hurt more this time. 

She didn’t even have a chance to cry out as she began to fall, her mind struggling to grapple with what just happened. She heard Crecia and Rytlock yell, but they sounded miles away. All she could see was Braham, the look of anguish and shock twisting his face. She tried to reach out to him, tried to speak but her body refused. She tasted ash and blood and it hurt. It hurt so much. She clawed desperately at the shadows beginning to cloud her sight. She wanted to cry, to scream, to beg. She couldn’t die. She refused. She didn’t want to die. Not yet … 

The last thing she heard before darkness finally took her was the furious, guttural snarl of a wolf.

That thing about how your life flashes before your eyes when you die? Lys could confirm that didn’t happen. Mostly it was just shock and pain and then it’s over. So she fully expected to find herself back in the Domain of the Lost when she opened her eyes, or rather, to lose herself there again. Why then, was she suddenly standing on the deck of Sayida’s airship? She remembered this day, this single perfect day where no one precious had died. When Kralkatorik had fallen. Where her family all stood together and allowed a moment of peace, followed Aurene’s light into the sunset. She could stay here. Stay in this moment with Braham standing beside her, with Taimi and Gorrik excitedly chattering about dragon physiology, Rytlock and Logan trading affectionate jabs on the other side of the deck. With the battle won. She could stay here, that would be okay. 

“Stay with me, Commander.” The pain returned with a vengeance. Sharp and hot, all-consuming. She couldn’t see but she felt a frantic hand, slick with something, clutch at the back of her neck, hold her head away from the ground as she spasmed. “Please, please don’t go.” All at once the pain lessened, washed away by the familiar ebb of Braham’s magics and she felt something warm and wet on her cheek. “Don’t leave me… don’t you dare leave me, Lys.” Braham? He was crying. Why was he crying? She tried to reach for him, to speak but the pain surged back, twisted her words into a gargle as she tried, and failed, to take a breath. 

“No! No no no. Wolf, you can’t have her!” 

She always ended up back here, didn’t she? Just a little girl staring up at the Hawkgates, unable to understand that the remains lying on the ground, torn unrecognizable by charr claws, were her family. Her father wasn’t walking back through those gates, her mother would never be standing in their shadow, telling her stories again. This was the day her path was set. She could save the whole world a dozen times over but it didn’t matter. She was always back here and she was always alone, at the end of things. The walls of the Stronghold had never fallen. 

She felt light, as if she were floating. Her pain-fractured mind pieced together that she was being carried, and somehow she knew that it was Braham. She tried to open her eyes, to see him, but when she did a searing sharp pain overwhelmed her.

“Hey, hey … I’ve got you. You’re alright.” Braham spoke softly, shifted to hold her more securely as she struggled. “You’re going to be alright.” 

The way his voice shook betrayed him. Liar. She wanted to tell him so but her throat refused, sent another crushing wave of pain as she tried. She managed only a ragged squeak. 

“Don’t try to talk.” His voice broke as he spoke, “Aurene will … you’ll be okay. Just stay with me, you hear me?” She felt the ghost of his lips on the top of her head and she tried, she tried so hard to stay. She wanted to stay. 

It was dark. The single circle of light radiating around her feet served only to reveal the depths of the inky blackness that surrounded her. Where was she? Was she anywhere, anymore? There was a sound in the distance, a faint rhythmic tapping somewhere behind her. It was when she tried to turn toward the sound that she realized she couldn’t move. Every muscle was frozen, she could only breathe and blink and listen as she realized with a cold horror that the tapping was footsteps, and they were drawing nearer. She tried again to look over her shoulder, a panic rising in her throat, but her body wouldn’t listen. The footsteps halted directly behind her, the only sound now her own heart pounding in her ears. Something touched her hair … then she felt a hot breath on her neck. Smelled rot and sand. 

“My dearest Commander, it’s really been far too long …” A skeletal hand traced along her opposite cheek. Long, decrepit fingers wrapped around her throat, turned her head against her will to look into the leering, eager face of Palawa Joko. “We’re alone. Finally. No messy fighting, no bothersome interruptions. Just you and me and eternity.”

Joko drew nearer to the commander, his grip on her neck tightening as his visage twisted into a pleasant grin, “Where should we start?” 

All at once, he was gone. Everything was gone. 

The first time Lys saw the All, all those years ago in Omadd’s Machine, she’d been floating through it; her point of view separate, as if looking down upon a great, shifting machine. Each time she’d seen it since, and she had seen it hundreds of times since the bloodstone, there was less and less of her and more of Everything. All. 

This time was different. There was not less of her, or more of All … there was no division between the two. She was the shifting flows of magic, the celestial river. The dragons, and the stars rising and falling; the circles within circles, branching to circles. And they were _familiar._ She knew this pattern and her mind, fractured and expanded, tried to make sense of them like a child struggling with their letters. She knew, but she did not understand. 

Antikythera. 

Then a familiar tone sounded, a single crystalline chime. It resonated among the circles, gathered her scattered pieces. Coalesced, called her back. Wherever she was, it was safe and there was no more pain. She felt arms around her, lowering her down to someplace warm like sunlight. The absence of that embrace was poignant and she reached out, searching for it. A hand enveloped hers, clutching tightly and she clung to it as the warmth and the song willed her to rest.


	8. Holding On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Braham keeps vigil as the commander begins to heal under Aurene's watchful gaze and plans are made to prepare for the coming war. Braham is very bad at following orders, but the commander secretly doesn't mind. 
> 
> Covers the end of Voice in the Deep, and after.

This feeling was hatefully familiar. No matter how many times he circled the room, he couldn’t outpace it. The quiet bubbling of the pool, the faint but persistent hum of Aurene’s presence, all keyed to comfort the commander where she lay sleeping, were anathema to Braham. Calm, they said to him. Peace. Rest. 

He flexed his hand as he paused near the massive archway, clenched and unclenched his fingers. He didn’t want any of those things. What he wanted right now was the relief of his fist smashing into Bangar’s face. He pictured it as he stalked the edge of the scrying pool, hitting Bangar so hard the charr’s teeth cut his knuckles. Pulling his arm back and hitting him again. And again. However many times it took until the bastard stopped breathing. He imagined tearing into Ryland again with his claws, with Wolf’s claws. Snapping his fangs down on the traitor’s throat. Maybe that would calm the seething anger, the hatred boiling in his chest. 

And Jormag. Fate didn’t need to tell him to kill that dragon. He wasn’t going to rest until they paid for what they’d done. Everything they’d done, but especially ... 

Yes, it was familiar. All of this was too fucking familiar. 

The anger did serve one purpose, it kept him from remembering. Mostly. Remembering her screams of pain. Her wet, labored gasps. His desperation as he struggled to heal her, the god damn enchantments on  _ his  _ bow undoing the work as quickly as he could cast spells. How he struggled to hold on to her with his hands covered in her blood. The nauseating smell of burnt flesh. He felt sick again, reliving those moments and stopped his pacing to make his way back to the commander’s side, to ensure himself that she was still there. Still alive. 

She was. Laying there on a bed of branded crystal, half-covered with his cloak, looking so small and broken. The bandage wrapped around her chest covered the worst of her wound, the ragged tear where the arrow had punctured her ribs. The burns blossomed out from under it, spread like rays of a twisted sun down the length of her right arm, radiated up her neck and across her face. The burns had healed some, thanks to Aurene, but still remained raw and blistered, stark coppery red against the commander’s fair skin. 

Braham sank down next to her, close to her side and studied her sleeping, fire-scared face. The burns arched over her cheekbone, across her eye and up to her brow. She looked better than she had when they arrived, when he’d panicked in the silence between each labored breath until she took the next. Jhavi had tried to shoo him away as she cut the commander’s charred armor from her body, while Aurene began to heal what he’d failed to. But he wouldn’t have it. He’d washed the blood from her himself, held the commander while Jhavi bandaged her chest. He’d been so thankful that she was unconscious as he washed her burns, thankful to Aurene for saving her from the pain. For saving him from the pain. 

He exhaled slowly, the coals of his anger giving way as he watched Lys sleep. The steady rise and fall of her breathing calmed him in a way that Aurene’s song could not. 

The others were asleep far away in the cavernous main room, but still, he whispered as he spoke to her, “You remember Fahranur, when we were trying to leave and you kept wandering off to look at some drawing on the wall or stuff useless pieces of pottery in your bag? I was so mad.” He reached down to touch her unmarred cheek, his fingertips tracing the line of her jaw, “All these years apart and you hadn’t changed a bit. Reckless woman, halfway up a pillar that’s barely still standing, about to kill yourself for a scrap of tapestry. ”

He chuckled softly, and began to run his fingers through her hair, “Remember that night in Amnoon? Drinking too much under the stars. Or when I made you dance with me at Dragon Bash? You said you hated it, but I didn’t believe you. You were laughing and teasing me like old times and I …” He stopped. His throat was tight and his eyes were beginning to sting. You’ve cried enough, Braham, he told himself with a slow breath. 

“We haven’t had enough of those days, Lys. I wasted too much time being an idiot. Aurene says you’ll wake up, that you just need to rest but …” Would she even want to wake up, like this? What if Aurene couldn't heal her either? What if she couldn’t draw her bow? Couldn’t cast a spell? He wondered if he’d ever see her smile again, ever hear her laugh and felt the tears he’d tried to fight back falling down his cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry, Lys.” He gripped at her hair now, leaned down to rest his forehead against her bare shoulder as his voice quivered, “It was my fucking bow that did this to you. If I hadn’t lost it, if I hadn’t even made the damn thing this never would have happened. _Spirits_ , I’m so sorry … I’ll make them pay for this. I’ll make up for it. I promise.”

“Braham …” From the other side of the pool, nearly forgotten, Aurene spoke gently, “She will wake, I promise you. And her wounds will heal, with time. Do not despair.” 

He took a shaking breath, lifted his head from the commander’s shoulder, “... is she hurting right now? Can she feel it?”

“No. She is unaware of anything, and sleeping peacefully.” Aurene assured, “You should rest as well. I know my champion, and she would be upset if she knew how long you had been keeping this vigil.

“I’m too …” He sat back, gently pulled the makeshift cover of his cloak up around the commander. “I’m too riled up to rest. I hate sitting here and doing nothing.” He was afraid, he admitted to himself. He remembered falling asleep at his father’s side, so long ago. While he’d slept, Wolf had taken the only family he had. This time, he wouldn’t sleep. This time he’d fight off Wolf himself if he had to. 

“Thank you.” Braham looked up at Aurene, and the dragon smiled back at him. A familiar smile. “Thanks for taking care of her. For … saving her.” 

“You don’t need to thank me, Braham.” Aurene’s voice was light, melodic like falling water and seemed to speak only to him, “I love her, too.” 

\-------------------

“We wait for Bangar's next move. He'll reach out to the legions, using Drakkar's death as proof of his power.” The commander was having trouble focusing on Aurene’s voice. It had only been perhaps half an hour since she woke to find Braham hovering over her, but as she stood here wrapped in his cloak, listening to everyone disseminate the events of the last few days she felt like she’d been standing for hours. Her arm hurt, each breath she took pulled at the half-healed gap in her chest. She could hardly open one eye. Even with Aurene tempering the pain, she was struggling. 

“If he starts splitting up the charr, we're talking civil war. And our son—” Rytlock’s words cut through the haze of exhaustion and pain. 

“War.” She echoed quietly, too quiet to be heard by anyone other than Braham, who had hovered protectively right at her side since she stood up. Or Jasper, sitting close be. If she were less distracted she’d be amused by her two hovering guardians. A bear and a wolf. 

The charr would come for Ebonhawke first, she realized, for her home. As if the lingering wounds of generations of war weren’t reason enough, Bangar’s forces would target the stronghold as a symbol of the Ascalonian commander. Of her. She wavered on her feet, but Braham’s hand on her elbow steadied her. 

“Our cub's made his choice. Now we can only respond to it. We'll need to be ready. For anything.” Crecia was right, though in more ways than just Ryland. 

“We do need to be ready for anything.” Lys tried to keep her voice strong and even, to square her shoulders as she took a half step away from Braham’s support, “It’s Bangar’s move, but we know full well who’s guiding him. And Jormag isn’t going to rest, no matter what it seems.”

She looked around the room, from charr to norn to dragon. All eyes on her, as usual. “Rytlock, Crecia. We need to know what’s going on internally, where the divisions lay. If there is to be a civil war, the charr that oppose Bangar will need our help before the blood starts to spill.”

“You’re right, Commander.” Crecia gave her a nod, “Rytlock and I will reach out to the other Imperators. Gather what intel we can.” 

“Jhavi, Braham.” She glanced between the two norn, “You two head back to the Marches. We need to know  _ where _ Jormag is, watch for their next move.”

“The Vigil will be ready, Commander.” Jhavi agreed. Braham, however, had crossed his arms over his chest and was regarding her with a look she was all too familiar with. 

“And you, Commander?” He asked carefully.

“I …” She turned to look at him and felt a sharp, crackling pain engulf her shoulder as she unwittingly stretched the burn. She flinched, but continued, “I’m going to be here for a while, it seems. When I’m back on my feet I’ll head to Ebonhawke and then to the Priory. There’s … something I need to look into.” Circles within circles, branching to circles. 

“And you want me…” Braham spoke slowly as he reclaimed the space she’d made between them a moment ago by stepping toward her, “... to go back to Jora’s Keep?”

From the corner of her eye, Lys saw Rytlock, Crecia and Jhavi, even Aurene all watching them curiously. But Braham didn’t seem to notice or care as he looked steadily down at her. When she looked into his eyes, she also forgot for a moment that anyone else was there. His expression was just like the one he’d given her before he’d kissed her, intense and searching. There was a silent question being asked, but she didn’t have the answer to it. Not yet. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

“No. " He didn't waver, "I’m not leaving you, Commander.”

“Braham …” This was exactly what she’d been afraid of. Personal feelings being put before the necessity of the situation. She reached out with her left hand and touched his palm, brushing her fingertips against his, “I trust you to stay steadfast against Jormag more than anyone else. I need to know that you have your eyes on the Shiverpeaks, so I can look elsewhere.”

Her touch was gentle, but his was not. He caught her fingers and clutched her hand in his as he looked down into her eyes, “I’m not leaving you like this.”

“What if I said it was an order?”

Braham huffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “When have I ever been good at following orders?”

“Pretty much never.” Lys sighed, if there was one time she didn’t have the strength to battle Braham’s stubbornness it was right now. Glancing to her side she caught the toothy grin of Rytlock and pointedly ignored it. “The mother hen will join you in a few days, Jhavi. You good on your own?”

“I am.” Jhavi sounded amused, “Besides, Jory’s still there.”

“I could stay too, Commander.” Rytlock hadn’t stopped grinning, “You know, if you need the extra company.”

“Brimstone.” 

"Fine, fine. Message received," Crecia’s threatening tone elicited a growling grumble from Rytlock, “I use to be the favorite, you know.” 

Jhavi had already started to retreat down the hallway, followed by the charr. “I find that hard to believe,” She threw over her shoulder, “Jory always told me that Logan was the Commander’s favorite.” 

Lys didn’t hear the retort. As the others disappeared the exhaustion caught up with her full force. The room began to spin, and then suddenly she was leaning against Braham’s chest. 

“I am not a mother hen.” He growled as he took her arm, laid a steadying hand on her waist. 

“What would you call yourself then?”  The room still insisted on spinning so she held onto Braham as he guided her across the brand crystal, to the makeshift bed nearer to Aurene. 

“Doting wolf?” He offered.

She kept her right arm close to her side, held her breath through the pain of movement as she sunk back down to the crystalline floor, with his support. “Do wolves … dote?”

“We sure as hell do. Now lay back down and let Aurene do her job.”

She’d already closed her eyes, the resonating hum of Aurene’s mental presence beginning to lull her back to sleep, but she held onto Braham’s hand as he knelt beside her, “... yes, sir.”


	9. Patience is Not a Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been weeks since the commander and Braham parted ways at the Eye of the North, weeks that she’d been avoiding him and focusing on her research at the Priory. Just as she’s preparing to set out toward the culmination of months of work, she receives an unexpected visitor. Patience is not one of Braham’s virtues.

(The mentioned letter can be read [here](https://magisterlys.tumblr.com/post/190758552223/unsent-letter))

Lys glanced once again between _The Ways of the God-Kings_ and _Thruln: Ages Past_ , trying to decide which of the two books deserved a place in her bag. The first was more thorough but impractically large for carrying through an ancient dwarven ruin. And yet, was there anything worse than not having access to the source material you needed in the field? She sighed. Choices were hard. From his perch on the back of her chair, Notti grackled as if offering his opinion, fluffing his feathers up.

As Lys set the heavier book down she noticed that the sleeve of her blouse had crept up, revealing the burn scars that now climbed her forearm like vines. She frowned, tugged it back down and began to gather the scattered notes on the desk she’d commandeered for the last couple weeks, deep in the Priory’s special collections. Some of them were valid thoughts and bits of research but mostly she was distressed to realize how many were covered with a familiar pattern of circles and curved lines. The same pattern, over and over. She didn’t even remember drawing most of them … 

“Magister!” An asura with bright red hair came scurrying through the stacks toward her, calling out in the raised faux whisper that everyone seemed to adopt in this space, “Sorry to interrupt, I have a message for you.”

That was odd, Lys thought, she hadn’t expected Braham to reply to her last letter yet. She held out her hand, “Give it here then, Klarre. And thank you.”

“No no, sorry.” Klarre was panting, one hand on the corner of the desk, “Whew! Those stairs are something. Why are there so many stairs? I mean you just go up and then right back down. They are completely unnecessary, really.“

“Scholar.” Lys gave her a look, knowing from experience that if you didn’t interrupt Klarre she’d go on a meandering verbal walkabout for half an hour before reaching her original point.

“Oh yes! Right. Sorry. Message.” Klarre shook her head, “Nothing to deliver. Just there’s someone here to see you.”

“To … see me?”

“Yup!”

Lys sighed, “Any idea who?”

“Nope!”

“… none at all?”

“None!” Klarre flashed a proud grin, “Magister Makkay just caught me on her way down to get you herself. Said to tell you someone’s waiting at the Heart.”

No one outside of her guild and close associates knew where she was, and all of them would have just raised her on the com as soon as they got close. “Alright, thank you.” She set her notes down and circled around the desk. Notti flapped his wings, made as if to follow her but she shook her head at the bird, “Stay here, I’ll most likely be right back.” 

The light of the Heart of the Priory filtered down from above as Lys ascended the stairs into the public area. As usual, there were plenty of people milling about, but it wouldn’t have mattered if the whole of Lornar’s Pass were standing there, she’d still have instantly known who was waiting for her. And she’d have been no less unprepared to see him. 

Braham was standing with his back to her, looking up at the constantly shifting and rotating column of tablets. He was nervous, she’d known him long enough to read the tension in his shoulders, the way he kept flexing his fingers. The golden light of the Heart cast a shimmering glow to his silhouette and she was keenly thankful that he wasn’t facing her as she admired how the warm light highlighted his hair, how it cast the lines of his face in a gold like tempered sunlight as he somehow sensed she was there and turned to look over his shoulder. It made her heart clench, to realize how glad she was to see him but also how terrified. 

“Braham?” At her voice, his face lite up with a smile that lasted only a moment before shadow crossed it. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the scar that now marred her cheek and her brow, the lasting reminder of what Bangar had done to her. When they’d last seen each other, weeks ago in the Eye of the North her wounds had been fresh enough to assume that they would heal. That apparently wasn’t the case and it annoyed her how self-conscious she suddenly felt. She frowned and fiddled with her hair, trying to hide behind it. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

“Yes. No, I mean. I …” Braham moved toward her and she toward him, magnetically. They both stopped short a few feet apart, the distance between them like a living thing. Why hadn’t she mentioned this? All her letters had assured him that she was fine. That was true, he admitted, but he was unprepared for the spike of anger he felt seeing her like this … how it reignited his desire to break Bangar in half. The commander was shrinking away from him, looking away and he suddenly realized how his reaction might be mistaken so he smiled as he sheepishly continued, “Bjora has been quiet. I read your last letter and I’m … impatient.” 

Lys swallowed hard, smiled awkwardly. Why was he looking at her like that? “Patience has never been your strongest virtue.” 

“Nah. It’s right up there with the ability to follow orders.” He chuckled and narrowed the distance between them again, taking a step closer. “I should have told you I was coming, on the com I mean. But I just …”

“… are bad at following orders?”

“Yeah, that.” He gave her a smirk. 

If he was here because of her letter, that meant that he wanted to talk. She’d expected to have days yet, maybe weeks, to figure out what exactly she was going to say. But here he was, right now. And she still had no idea. “If you’d shown up an hour later you would have missed me. I was just about to set out south, into Timberline Falls.”

Braham raised a brow, leaned into the space between them, “What are you going there for?”

“What you’d expect.” She shifted to the side, “I’ve been searching for the location of a Stone Summit tomb since before the rally in Grothmar. I think I’ve found it.”

“So …” He’d successfully navigated the distance and now there were mere inches between him and the commander,“You were just about to go delving into a dwarven tomb? Dwarves. The ones who entertained themselves with most-horrific-deadly-trap competitions? Alone?”

“… yes? Well, when you say it like that it sounds like something I’d yell at you for doing.” 

“Uh huh.”

While she was caught up considering if she was being a Braham-level of foolish, he’d touched her forearm, slipped his fingers up to wrap around her elbow. And now he was looking down at her, too near for her to hide her scars. His brow was furrowed as his eyes traveled from the scar across her cheek to where it ran down her neck, disappeared under the collar of her blouse. He released her elbow and raised his hand, moved to touch her neck. 

“I’ll go change into my armor.” She stepped backward, away from him. Turned from his touch and his gaze. “Grab my things, and you can come with me?”

Braham let his hand drop, frowned after the already retreating commander. “… I’d like that.” 

  
A short while later Lys made her way back up the stairs, tugging on the buckles on her new armor as she did. Notti squawked his displeasure from his perch on her shoulder but she gave the raven a gentle tap on the beak to hush him. As she took the last stair she stopped to adjust the top of her boots. New armor was always such a beast to break in, damn Bangar for ruining her old set. Finally settled she looked up to find Braham staring at her, mouth agape. She arched a brow, feeling uncomfortable again. “… something wrong?”

“No.” Braham blinked, realizing that he’d been gawking and cleared his throat as he watched the commander make her way over to him. He’d counted every moment since he’d last seen her, replayed their night hidden away together in the Keep a hundred times just to avoid remembering how close he’d come to losing her. And now here she was, alive and vibrant and wearing leathers that clung to every curve, that cut several inches above her boots to display a tantalizing flash of thigh. He couldn’t touch her, to ask him not to stare would be too much.

Lys pretended to be oblivious to his staring as she led him up the long hall, “Do you mind if we make the trip a flight? I asked someone to get Morrigna saddled, and assuming that she hasn’t bitten anyone … “

“I’m fine with that. I think.” Braham begrudged, “Given it was me she bit last time.”

“Aw, she didn’t mean it.” They’d made their way across the open courtyard to where a pair of sylvari stood near the commander’s massive corvid griffon. The sylvari looked nervous, but the griffon churred happily as she spotted her rider and bent to butt her avian head against the commander as they arrived. Lys rubbed the cyan tipped feathers cresting Morrigna’s ears, “You didn’t mean it. Did you, girl?”

“I don’t know, did you mean to bite me?” Braham asked the griffon. Morrigna clacked her beak in response and turned one dark eye to look at Braham directly. 

The norn and griffon staring match was interrupted by a high pitched voice, “Magister! Magister Fiora, you forgot something!” Klarre pattered across the courtyard, waving a stack of papers over her head.

“I didn’t …” Lys attempted to tell the scholar that she hadn’t forgotten her strange sketches and had, in fact, thrown them away on purpose but Klarre had already thrust them into her hands. “… thank you.” She said instead. 

“Sure thing! Are you sure I can’t come with you? You know my interest in the jotun language is second only to yours. You never know when you might need another pair of hands or a sharp set of eyes and by the Alchemy! You are tall.” Klarre seemed to have just noticed Braham. 

Braham barely heard the asura, he was too busy trying to get a better look at the papers Lys was hastily shoving into her bag. He recognized those drawings. They were the same ones he’d had to scold her a dozen times for doodling instead of resting, in the days they stayed together in the Eye of the North. “Yeah, well.” He began a response. Why was she still drawing those things? And why had she been so quick to hide them? Distracted, he continued, “I’m norn. We’re tall.” 

Lys interrupted before Klarre could inevitably try to helpfully inform Braham that she was an asura, and they are short. “I’m certain, Klarre. Braham and I can handle it, and I promise to take detailed notes and organize a proper expedition if it’s required.” 

“I suppose that is adequate.” Klarre waved enthusiastically as she took off across the courtyard again. “See you soon! Have fun!” 

“She’s uh … “ Braham chuckled and looked over at the commander. She was smiling and shaking her head, not hiding behind her hair for once and he met her eyes as she turned toward him. “Makes me miss Taimi.” 

“Yeah, I think they’d …” Lys realized how intently he was looking at her and quickly turned to secure her bag to Morrigna’s saddle, gestured for Notti to hop up as well. “I think they’d get along.” 

“Commander.” He caught her arm as she turned away. 

She glanced back toward him, but didn’t turn. “Yes?”

“Look at me?” Braham’s voice was gentle. He didn’t force her to face him, just gave her arm a squeeze.

Reluctantly, she acquiesced, keeping her head down as he turned toward him. He used his hold on her arm to pull her closer and touched his fingertips to her chin. She looked up at him finally.

“I just wanted to say ….” He touched her hair, brushed it out of her eyes so that he could see her face. All of it. She didn’t know how his voice managed to become even softer, but it did, washed over her like silk as he spoke, “You’re beautiful, Lys.”

“Braham.” How could he say that? She frowned and glanced away from him lest she start weeping like a vain idiot in the middle of the Priory. 

“I mean it.” He gently touched her forehead, traced the jagged lines of her scar until his hand came to rest on her cheek, cupping her face in his palm. As she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze he leaned closer and made a faint growling sound in the back of his throat, “ And I’m not saying that just because you look hot as hell in that skirt and those boots.”

“Braham!” She laughed suddenly, shoved his shoulder playfully as she extracted herself from his dangerous nearness. 

“I mean really, Lys!” It was good to hear her laugh. She clearly didn’t believe him, but that just meant he’d have to tell her again and again until she understood. “Are you trying to drive a guy crazy?” 

“I promise that wasn’t on my list of goals when I chose it.” Lys gripped the strap along the back of Morrigna’s neck and swung gracefully up onto the griffin’s back. As she settled into the saddle she admitted to herself that catching Braham’s attention had at least been a bonus of this particular armor choice. But he didn’t need to know that. She leaned over and offered her hand to him. 

He took her hand, trusted her to counter his weight as he used her help to climb into the saddle behind her. Morrigna rustled her wings as if in protest to the second rider. “Yeah yeah,” Braham apologized, “I know you don’t like me, but I promise to watch my heels this time.” 

Lys laughed and patted the griffon affectionately on the neck, then turned to look over her shoulder at Braham, “Hold on tight?”

She didn’t need to ask, he’d been aching to do so since the moment he saw her. Braham rested his hands on the commander’s hips then slowly, purposefully slid his arms around her waist, pressing his chest against her back as he quietly responded, “Gladly.” 

She allowed herself to lean back against him a moment, to brush her hands against his arms as she reached for the straps of the saddle. She dared not look over her shoulder again, she could almost sense how he was looking at her. Dangerous man. “… just don’t let go.”

There was no chance for a response as the slightest encouragement from her rider sent the feline form of the griffin bounding toward the edge of the courtyard. With powerful leap Morigna cleared the cliffside, spreading her raven black wings to the sky and took off southward. 


	10. Perilously Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Braham follows the commander into the depths of a Stone Summit tomb in search of a lost repository of knowledge. It goes about as well as one might expect and the pair find themselves lost in the darkness and beset by ancient creatures.

“I thought you said this place had been explored. Excavated, whatever.” 

Lys knelt to retrieve what arrows she could from the dead cave troll at her feet, “It was, but that was …” Blasted troll hide was so thick, she barely got three back from the dozen she’d shot, “That was before Zhaitan. This place was crawling with risen, so only a surface dig. The krewe found the cave we went through but didn’t explore deeper.”

“And uh … “ Braham shook a bit of troll from his mace, made a face as he hung the weapon from his belt, “What exactly was this place again?”

Lys chuckled, paused as she moved past him to smirk teasingly, “If I tell you, are you just going to forget in ten minutes?”

Braham flashed a grin as he fell in behind the commander, picking his way over the rubble blocking the narrow path, “I mean probably, yeah. But you love talking about this stuff so does it matter?”

She shook her head, paused to set her shoulder against a piece of fallen masonry, pushing it out of the way so the larger norn could make it through as well, “It was called Camp Rankor several centuries ago. A Stone Summit outpost.”

“Stone Summit? So the uh, extra awful dwarves.”

“With the slavery and the world-conquering and the dark rituals? Yes, those.” 

“And we’re crawling through one of their tombs now why?” Braham ducked low to follow Lys through a partially shifted archway, “Let me rephrase that. You were going to go crawling through one of their tombs alone now why?”

Engrossed in considering which of the two pathways ahead they should take, Lys only half heard him, “Dragan Duskfallow. A brother of Duncan the Black. He was as close to a scholar as the Stone Summit get, I think. Had an admirable hobby of collecting the last known copy of rare manuscripts.”

“That doesn’t sound like a Stone Summit thing to do.”

Lys turned to her right, finally settling on the tunnel with the least amount of measurable airflow, “He made sure his copy was the last by systematically destroying any others.”

“Oh.” Braham followed close behind the commander, “Okay, that sounds more like them. And because he’s a dwarf, you figure he was buried with these things?”

“Well, he didn’t donate them to a library, that’s for sure.” She stopped short. The tunnel ahead of them had shifted sometime in the numerous intervening years. Ahead of her was a drop of at least fifteen feet, down into the shadows cast by flicking runes lining the walls. 

Braham paused as well and leaned over to follow her gaze down. He gave her a grin, “Let me, this is where I shine.” 

Lys just shook her head, watching as he knelt at the edge and then effortlessly swung off the side, landing nimbly below. 

“I’ve got you.” Braham raised his arms and looked up at her, gestured for her to jump. It wasn’t that far, but it wouldn’t have been the kind of jump she’d make straight off the edge if someone had not been there to catch her. She didn’t hesitate though as she stepped off, not with Braham. 

He caught her by the waist as she fell, carefully lowered her until her feet touched the ground. Whenever she was this close he was always struck by how small she seemed, like the mantle of The Commander fell away and he could see Lys in all her fallible, perfect humanity. A rare glimpse beyond the title that so few got to see. It made him feel … special. 

He’d placed her perilously close. As they stood there, as he looked down at her, his grip tightened, fingers digging into her back as he drew her even closer. She wanted to say something but words died in her throat as Braham leaned down and pressed his lips to her brow, just above her right eye where the scar was the most prominent. It was such a gentle kiss, slow and deliberate, lingering. She breathed out slowly, her eyes closing as she rested her hands on his waist.

Braham let his forehead fall against hers, closing his eyes. He felt certain that she could hear the pounding of his heart, it was so loud. “Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn’t have, I just … I missed you.” 

“It’s alright.” She spoke quietly, “I missed you too.” 

“Does it still hurt?” His eyes were open now, watching as her lashes fluttered. He wished she’d open her eyes, wished she’d really look at him. 

“No. Well, only when I look in the mirror.” She gave an awkward laugh, a joke meant to brush off the question but as she opened her eyes and saw Braham looking at her with that intense expression he gave her sometimes, her laugh died in her throat. It was hard to hold his gaze, but she forced herself to do it. “No, it doesn’t hurt. Just feels … odd.”

Braham let go of her waist, moved his hands up to cradle the back of her head, tilting her face back so he could see her more clearly. She rose up on her toes in response, leaning against him for balance and it was all he could do not to kiss her for that. He managed to behave, gave her a soft smile as he blinked down at her, “You shouldn’t be ashamed. Scars are stories, the marks of your legend. They’re part of you now, Lys and you’re … beautiful. Never been more beautiful, if you ask me.”

“Braham …” That was it. That was all she could manage. She didn’t feel beautiful, she felt ashamed of her own vanity and constantly, constantly reminded of her near-death every time she turned too quickly, felt the tug of taunt, twisted scar tissues in her neck. She felt it when she smiled, like punishment for daring. 

He caught the quiver of her bottom lip, felt the tremble in her frame as she leaned against him and though every instinct told him to *make* her believe him, right here and now, he reluctantly admitted that the darken, rubble-strewn tunnel of a dwarven tomb was maybe not the best location, “This probably isn’t the right time for that talk, is it?” He offered with a half-smile. 

“No, we uh,” Lys laughed softly and took a step back, extracting herself from Braham’s touch, “Should probably get moving.” 

Beyond the drop-off the narrow tunnel opened into the high vaulted ceilings, tall pillars lining a path that spiraled subtly downward. The sight of it had elated the commander, made her quicken her pace, though she paused now and then to study the runes on the wall and mumble to herself. 

“We’re on the right path then, I take it? You’re doing your mumbling thing.”

“What? Oh, yes.” Lys had nearly forgotten he was there, she was so engrossed with her search. She hadn’t seen a single piece of graffiti so far, or marks of dredge activity. Even if this wasn’t Duskfallow’s tomb, finding any undisturbed dwarven tomb could be a significant find. As they rounded the next corner Lys skidded to a stop and couldn’t help herself, she squealed in delight. 

“Something things never change …” Braham chuckled softly, watching as the commander clasped her hands and grinned up at the massive, arched stone doors blocking their progress. “This what we’re looking for then?”

Set into the center of the doors was a circular indentation, about the size of a dinner plate and several inches deep. She swung her bag off her back, dropped it to the floor at her feet and retrieved a circle of stone latticed with runework over its concave face from within. “Only one way to find out.” 

Braham couldn’t help but think perhaps this was a bad idea but before he was able to voice that opinion, the commander had already slipped the runestone into place. The stone began to glow, an image like a tower hidden in the knotwork burning white-hot. The heat branched out, tracing ever quicking lines through the door, like something unfurling. Braham grabbed Lys’s arm and yanked her back behind him as the doors began to grate and groan. 

“What- !” Lys sputtered as she found herself suddenly staring at Braham’s broad back, his hand still holding her arm tightly. “I’m okay, you … oaf.” She said the word fondly, gently patted his hand until he released her. 

He frowned down at her as she moved around to his side, “This dwarf stuff gives me a funny feeling. I don’t like it, Lys.” 

The doors had opened, revealing a large brazier of flicking blue fire and beyond, a darkened archway. She was distracted, but looked back at Braham as he spoke and rested her hand comfortingly on his arm, “I know you don’t, mo chuisle.”

Braham blinked in confusion after the commander, followed her as she stepped through the doorway, “What … did you call me?” 

“Perhaps I’ll tell you someday.” She was happy her back was to him, hiding the color on her cheeks as she summoned a wisp of pale sunlight in her palm and tossed it through the archway ahead, into the darkness beyond. The light held for the briefest of moments and then was promptly swallowed up the darkness. Instiquished in an instant. 

“Uhh …” Braham spoke up from behind her, “Did I mention I don’t like this dwarf stuff?”

“You did.” She nodded once and retrieved an unlit torch from the lines on the wall. Though ancient it still ignited instantly when she touched it to the brazier, flicking with a bright blue flame. She stepped back to the archway and extended her arm, pushed the torch forward into the inky blackness. Unlike her magic, this light continued to burn, casting a faint half circle a few feet out into the room. “Thought so.” 

“I really don’t like this.” Braham had moved to her side, peer out into the edge of the light’s shadows.

“Magical darkness.” She explained with a grin then retrieved a second torch and lit it as well, offering it to him, “We can assume there’s traps or something similar in the room beyond, we’ll need to move carefully, but not dawdle.”

Braham accepted the torch, scowling at her, “Have I ever mentioned how unnerving it is when you get all excited in places like this?” 

“You probably have at some point, but I was too excited at the time to remember.” She winked at him, his deepening scowl only making her smile more. “Come on, take my hand and stick close. I’ll take lead, just step where I step.”

He took her hand as asked, laced their fingers together and gave her a tight squeeze. She looked up at him and returned the gesture, then stepped into the room. The darkness rushed in like liquid, pressed against the light of their torches as if it hungered to extinguish them. The room they now stood in felt massive, though there was no way to tell, only the way their footsteps on the stone floor echoed hinted at a cavern overhead and concerningly, below as well. 

“I’ve just remembered a conversation we had ages ago, in Camp Resolve.” 

“We’re surrounded by magical darkness, picking our way through a death trap two steps at a time and you’re reminiscing?” 

She squeezed his hand and came to a halt. The light a scant foot ahead stopped, finding no more floor to illuminate. She turned to their right, picking a careful way forward. “I suppose so? You told me how you’d never understand ‘us Priory people’.”

“I vaguely remember that.” He was keeping his eyes ahead of the commander, expecting at any moment to need to pull her back from plummeting off a ledge. “And I still don’t.”

“You said you couldn’t understand how crawling through a dusty ruin could be fun.”

“This isn’t *fun*, Lys.” He growled and pulled her to a stop again. Ahead of them, the path dropped off on three sides with no way forward. “Extremely not fun.

“You’re just upset because there’s nothing to bash your mace into. Maybe there will be a nice cave troll or something on the other side.”

“Will you please stop joking about this. How are we supposed to keep going?”

Lys swung her torch wide, squinting into the darkness. Spotting what she was looking for she carefully tossed her torch into the darkness, watching it flip end over end until it landed on another ledge several feet away. The light of the sailing torch had briefly illuminated the depths of the abyss below and Lys hoped to herself that Braham hadn’t noticed. Based on the glare he was giving her when she turned around, he had. 

“You’re going to jump that, aren’t you?” He spoke flatly. 

“That was the plan, yes. It’s only a few feet, we can both make it easily.”

“Let me go first then, we have no idea what’s on the other side.” 

He was giving her his stubborn look and she knew better than to argue, “As you wish. Hand me your torch? And pick that one up as soon as you land.” 

He did as she asked, offering her his torch. As she accepted it he leaned down and kissed her cheek, then took a flying leap forward before she could react. Lys’s breath caught in her throat as the darkness swallowed him, and she didn’t breathe again until he appeared in the steady light on the other side and retrieved the torch. 

“Come on then, and be careful. It’s farther away than it seems.” 

She took a deep breath, shifted her weight and leapt. She felt a spike of terror as she sailed through the air, nothing solid around her, just the abyss below and the darkness around. Her feet had barely touched the floor before Braham caught her, his arm around her waist as he dragged her back from the looming edge. 

“See? No problem.” The tremble in her voice betrayed her, and she cleared her throat as Braham reluctantly let her go. She caught his hand again, slipping her fingers between his just as he had done to her earlier and began to pick their way slowly forward again. 

“Yeah, absolutely no -” He began to snarkily agree but cut himself short as something scrabbled in the darkness somewhere nearby. They both spun toward the sound, lifting their torches. “What was that?” 

“I’m not …” To their other side, a pebbled skidded across the stone floor, landed squarely in the meager circle of light around them. All around them, something was waking, a lot of somethings. Scurrying, scratching, claws scraping stone and faint familiar bwips. “Shadow skelk. They shouldn’t enter the light, probably. Maybe.”

“Full of confidence here, Commander.” 

“Don’t you Commander me now. Come on, keep your torch up and let’s just move as quickly as we can while still being -”

The light around them wavered, pulsed once. Twice, as if struggling and then all at once Braham’s torch went out. He cursed, “Wolf’s teeth, you have got to be kidding me!” 

Lys pulled him closer, into the now much smaller circle of light cast by her torch, “Um, perhaps more quickly than originally intended.”

“Fine, I won’t Commander you. I’m leading, Lys.” He swung her around, still holding her hand tightly as he stepped out in front of her. His mace was in his other hand now as he stood on the edge of the light. “Hold the torch up and stay close, what exactly are we looking for?”

She followed his orders, lifting the torch high over his shoulder. Around them the shuffling grew louder, the pops and bwips of moving skelk more frequent. “A wall at this point. Hopefully another brazier to light, or an exit.” She thought she caught movement on edge of the light, an inky black tail slithering briefly into view.

Braham was moving to the edge of the light with each step, waiting for the light to illuminate the floor before he stepped again. It was a frustratingly slow staccato progress. They’d both grown quiet, he was trying to count the sources of movement, but it was impossible. There were so many of them out there, and this stupid light their only defense. They couldn’t fight in darkness, they couldn’t find their way out even if they survived the skelk. All of this for some bloody stupid books.

“Braham, I think …” Something brushed her leg, she was certain of it. But before she could continue her warning something massive suddenly slammed into her, knocking the wind out of her and sending her flying backward with such force that she was wrenched away from Braham, her hand slipping from his as the torch she held went flying several feet away. 

“Lys!” Braham spun around just in time to see the commander disappear as the torch ricocheted off the floor, bounced several feet away and plunged him into the darkness as well. Something brushed against his side, snapped at the air nearby. He swung toward it, his mace connecting with something that yelped and withdrew. Another hit his leg and he felt teeth scraping the metal of his gauntlet, trying to grab his arm. 

Lost in the darkness, the commander struggled with her attacker. The creature was nearly as large as she. It’s heavy foot pressed down on her chest, holding her pinned to the floor. As she kicked and thrashed, struggling to free herself something razor-sharp sunk into her thigh. She screamed, lashing out into the darkness as claws dragged through her flesh.

The sound of Lys, of his Lys, screaming awoke something in Braham. Like fire engulfing his heart. Wolf tore through his veins and he snarled as he lunged forward into the inky blackness. He could see them now, vaguely. The beast had her trapped on the ground and she screamed again as it raked its claws from her leg, lifting them to swipe toward her face. It didn’t get the chance. Braham threw himself on it, digging his claws into the surprised beast’s back. With a swift twist and a guttural snarl of anger, he broke its neck, tossing the limp corpse into the darkness. 

Lys couldn’t see what was happening, she just knew that suddenly her attacker was gone and something very, very angry now loomed over her. She tried to push herself to her feet, to scurry away from it but her leg screamed in protest, sent bolts of pain up her spine that made her cry out again. 

“It’s okay, it’s me. It’s me.” There was an edge to Braham’s voice, an unusual growl to his timbre and it wasn’t until she noticed the arms now picking her up were covered with soft fur that she realized what had happened. 

“Braham, you …” She hissed, clenching her teeth as he lifted her effortlessly from the ground. They were running, blindly from her perspective, but she felt his hold on her tighten as they flew suddenly through the air, barely pausing as they landed what must be a dozen feet away. The creatures pursued them relentlessly, teeth snapping behind her, claws grazing her armor. Braham snarled as they tore through the darkness, occasionally connecting with a skelk and sending its yelps of pain echoing through the cavern as he tossed it aside.

The darkness, the movement, the blood pooling in her boots. It was hard to tell, with no orientation but Lys was certain she’d blacked out. No concept of how long they’d been running, she just prayed to whichever of her useless gods weren’t listening that she wasn’t imagining the faint light ahead before it all went dark again. 


	11. Without Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barely surviving a trip through a Stone Summit tomb, the Commander and Braham have that "talk".

“Don’t do this to me, Commander.”

She drifted on the edge of lucidity, awake enough to know that she’d been set down somewhere, that rough hands were pulling her boots off. Lucid enough to berate herself for not realizing how much blood she’d lost before it knocked her unconscious. She’s a healer, for gods sake. 

“Lys, open your eyes.

Pain and that voice brought her sharply back to consciousness. Her eyes opened slowly, blinking as she looked up at Braham hovering over her. He was himself again, just a norn. Her norn. 

“Hey.” She answered weakly, biting back a hiss of pain as she forced a smile. Where were they? She was staring at a stone ceiling, a room small enough to see all four walls, illuminated by the same flickering magical flame that had carried them across the darkness.

“You’re …” Braham cursed under his breath and she felt his hands on her thigh, pushing the leather of her skirt up around her hips. She tried to focus on him if only to keep from looking at the ragged gashes across her leg. Her head was swimming and all she wanted was to lay back down and close her eyes. 

“I’m … what?” She asked through gritted teeth, watching Braham as he began to heal her. His magics were a comfort, but there was a storm in his expression, his hands were shaking.

“Trying to kill me!.” He growled, his fingers digging into her thigh as he concentrated on mending the nearly bone-deep claw marks, “Books. Wandering into a death trap, nearly get yourself killed for some stupid books!” 

“Stupid books?” She gawked and pushed herself off the floor, half sitting up. The pain had lessened, a dull ache now. “We’ve had a whole team working on this for months. I've barely slept the last two weeks, buried in research. They’re not just stupid - ow!”

He flinched at her exclamation of pain but continued to argue. “Yeah, and I’m sure it needed to be you to try this. You always have to do everything yourself!”

“I’m the expert here. Well, I’m the expert without Taimi around.” The glow surrounding Braham’s hands ebbed away as she sat up, “We need to understand the cycle, to deal with the dragons before we mess it up any further. This is important.”

“Important? You know what’s important, Commander?” He grabbed her shoulders suddenly, forcing her to look at him. “You are!”

“Braham …” 

“Don’t give me that look, don’t … say my name like that.” He shook his head, his voice catching in his throat. “Nothing is more important than you, Lys!”

She blinked as she looked up at him. “This .. isn’t about today, is it?”

“No.” He barked in frustration, “Yes, it’s about today. It's about the last month I spent thinking of you every damned moment. It’s about that night and every night I’m not with you. It’s about how close you are and how far away. I can’t stop thinking about how …how close I came to losing you. It’s about you nearly dying in my arms. And... ” 

She felt his grip on her shoulder tighten as he pulled her closer, as his voice trembled. The way he was looking at her, the intensity in his eyes made it impossible to look away, even if she wanted to, “ … and how desperately I want to kiss you right now even though you’re the Commander and I’m just -”

He didn’t get to finish. Lys swooped up, rising on her knees and claimed Braham’s mouth with hers. The gasp he made was a mix of surprise and relief, rolling into a rumbling growl as he slides his hands up her back, gripping her shoulders as he leaned eagerly into her kiss.

She cupped his face in her hands, stopped kissing him long enough to speak, “I’m sorry.” She catches his bottom lip with hers, nibbling between broken whispers, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how much you mean to me. It was you, Braham. You’re why I’m here. You’re why I didn’t let go. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Spirits, Lys …” She felt his fingers dig into her sides, his arms wrapping all the way around her waist possessively. He kissed her with such force that she has to shift her balance to keep from falling over. His mouth melds to hers, lips parting lips as his tongue meets hers, hesitantly at first and then eager at her reaction. There’s a hunger to their kiss, relief of a thirst finally quenched. 

They both came up for air, breath panting against moistened lips and she slides her hands down his neck, fingers slipping under the collar of his coat, caressing his bare skin. He made a soft sound and let his forehead rest against hers as he whispered, plaintively, “Don’t send me away again, please.” 

The idea is unthinkable, that she would ever let him go again, now that she’s given in. She can’t even remember why she was so afraid at the moment, drunk on his taste as she is. “I won’t.” She spoke again, this time her lips brushing against his. She could feel Braham tremble, feel how his grip on her waist tightened as she speaks, “Stay.” 

He answered her with another kiss, slow and sweet. Followed it with a dozen more until she felt light-headed for a different reason, giddy. She laughed softly between kisses, affectionately nudged her nose with his. 

“You’re smiling …” He purred with amusement and reached up to brush a strand of hair back behind her ear.

“So are you.” Lys couldn’t help but smile even more as he grinned back at her. When was the last time she left this light? This joyful? She can’t even remember. Braham pulled her close and she wrapped her arms around him, hands tangling in his braid as he nuzzled his face against her neck. 

“Braham?” She whispered.

His voice was muffled, hidden in the curve of her shoulder, “Yeah?”

Free to look around now she blinked, taking in the two sets of intricately carved, massive doors on either side of the small room, the brazier of flame burning nearby. “ … where in the world are we?”

Braham laughed softly, breathing out a deeply contented sigh as he hugged the commander close, “Who cares.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This did a total 180 from what I had originally planned but how it turned out is the only way that felt "right". I apologize that it's so short, but I hope after 10 chapters of lead up it's still enjoyable :)


	12. Promises and Secrets

"I met an old friend of yours, you know. At the Priory."

Braham shuddered and brushed an invisible spider web from his hair for the third time in as many minutes, "Yeah? Who?"

"Charming woman.” Lys paused to carefully remove a web from the passageway with the end of her staff, clearing it for Braham before she continued, “Thick raven black hair, curves for days. Marit. Ollesdottir? I think."

_Shit_ , he thought then tried not to stutter as he replied, "Oh, yeah … sounds familiar."

"Mmm. She told me the most interesting stories. About things that happened after you cracked the tooth."

"Y-yeah?” Oh, he was failing at that not stuttering thing, “It was uh …a blur. I hardly remember."

A spider the size of a housecat scurried from around a fallen stone, halted in its tracks by a burst of sunlight before Braham could see it, sending it flopping over on it’s back, singed legs curling in the air. "Jensina Stormcaller." She stated the name with clear accusation. 

The tone of her voice made his heart clench. "Commander, look …" 

"Elseif the Fair." She said that one mockingly, tossing her hair over her shoulder both as an illustration of her opinion of that title and to hide the grin she was struggling to control … 

"It wasn't, I was …" They’d rounded another corner of the passage and it was growing increasingly difficult for him to think while also avoiding the eight-legged horrors. 

"The most desirable man in the Shiverpeaks?" She asked, attacking a lingering web with a vengeance. 

"Lys, _please._ " Braham reached out and caught her arm, spinning her around to face him as he pulled her closer. The grin on her face made him blink in confusion. His cheeks burnt bright red as he realized.

"Really, Braham.” She laughed, “Three at once?"

How could he possibly have managed to blush more? He grumbled sheepishly, "They were into it."

Lys stepped closer, rising up on her toes to bring her face nearer to his as she accused, "Glutton."

Braham reached out and grabbed the commander, pressing her body against his with one hand spread across her back. He bent down to meet her, " .. I can be."

The way he practically purred those words sent a shiver down Lys’s spine. Spiders, she reminded herself. Dwarven tomb. Perilous ruins. Braham’s hand had slipped lower, tracing the curve of her hip ... where were they again? She cleared her throat quietly, trying to focus. "That's a lot for your future lovers to live up to."

He saw the effect he was having on the commander, the color on her cheeks, the way she struggled to keep her voice from trembling and it delighted him in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. Not quite like this, at least. "Depends on the lover.” He practically whispered, “Sometimes there's one that makes you forget any of the others existed.”

Lys had to take a steadying breath. She rested her hand on the center of Braham’s chest, pressed gently as she took a step back. “That would have to be one hell of a lover, given exactly how many I’m told she’d need to make you forget.”

Braham growled, following very close to the commander as she continued once again down the passage, “ … now you’re just teasing.”

She smirked, cheeks still burning. “Correct.” 

* * *

They’d found what they were looking for. 

Lys stood in the center of a stone chamber, boxes and shelves stacked high up the intricately carved walls. Every available inch was stuffed with scrolls, tablets, and books. A portion was in various states of moldering decay, the damp stone beneath their feet bearing testament to the intruding destruction of moisture. But here and there, higher up near the ceiling were manuscripts covered only in a thin sheen of dust. The chests and boxes all looked dry. 

“Blessed hands of the Six!” Lys was too dumbstruck even to correct her count of the gods. Was this really Duskfallow’s hoard? She spun around and rushed over to the opposite wall, holding a mote of starlight in her palm as she studied the carved relief. 

“Lys.” Not far behind her Braham scolded, “What part of ‘please stop running headlong into Evil Dead Dwarf tombs’ didn’t you catch?” 

The carvings were faded, marred by the lingering mineral deposits of ancient water but she could just make out the shape of a tower flanked by spread wings. “Huh?” Braham had said something, but she wasn't listening, “This is it! This is it, Braham. I found it! We found it.” 

“I’m glad this wasn't all - oof.” He suddenly had his arms full of the commander. She’d bounded forward, tossed her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. He accepted her gladly, hugged her clear off her feet as he spun her around. And then just as quickly she was gone again, rushing off to peer into the shelves. 

“Be careful not to touch anything." Lys warned, "A lot of these scrolls look like they're ready to crumble but we might be able to preserve them if we’re careful. I’ll have to organize a full expedition, get a team in here to -” A small stone tablet, just over a foot high, had been leaning against one of the shelves. As she spoke she’d tilted it back, intending only to see if the shelf it was blocking had been damaged but what she saw carved into the stone’s face made her stop and kneel down, made her head suddenly swim. 

“I’m sure that asura, what’s her name? Klarre?” Braham had moved over to peer into a box, careful not to touch anything as he spoke, “Sure she’ll be happy to hear that.”

How? Lys was still frozen where she’d knelt, staring at the tablet. It was dark stone, slate perhaps, carved with a border of lines and circles in no discernable pattern. Set in perfect relief at the center of the stone was something familiar, a pattern she knew. She’d seen it in her dreams for years, felt compelled to draw it endlessly in times of stress. She saw it sometimes on the back of her eyelids.

Circles with circles, branching to circles. 

“... Lys?” Braham’s voice jolted her back to reality. He was watching her from across the room, a deepening frown on her face. She stood, subtly picking up the stone as she did and turned to block what she was holding from his view. 

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just … excited.” She chuckled and shook her head, stepped back on the other side of the shelf. “There’s a teleport circle back here, easy exit if we can find the runestone.”

“And what would this runestone thing look like?” Braham kept his eyes on the commander until she slipped out of sight, then he shook his head. He really would never understand Priory types, even her. 

“Pretty much like the one I used to open the first door.” Lys quietly slipped the mysterious tablet into her bag, an immense feeling of guilt tightening her chest. Why was she hiding this from him? She couldn’t explain it, she just felt compelled to keep it to herself. Until she understood it. Until she knew what was going on. “Circular stone, a couple hands wide. Covered in knotwork. Keep looking, I’m going to see if any of these books are stable enough to take with us now.” 

“I’m kind of surprised that you’re willing to leave if I'm honest,” Braham called out from the other side of the room. “I expected to have to carry you out of here.”

She peered at him through an empty shelf, “It wouldn’t be the first time you threw me over your shoulder.” 

“Probably won’t be the last either.” Braham chuckled.

* * *

They emerged in a burst of orange light and found themselves overlooking the Rankor ruins just as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant reds and purples. 

"It's earlier than I thought it would be -" Lys began, but stopped as a familiar melodic voice drifted to the forefront of her mind.

_"Champion. I've peered into the abyss of time during your absence, with Fae’s help. There's something you should see."_

"...you okay?" Braham touched her arm, furrowed his brow as he looked at her.

She smiled reassuringly at him, "Yes, it's Aurene. She says that Fae has returned and there's something she needs me to see in the scrying pool."

"To the Eye then? I heard they got the asura gate working." He had an awful thought. What if she told him to go back to Bjora? What if she didn’t intend for him to stay with her?

"They did, though I haven't been back yet.” Lys replied, “There's a krewe set up a bit north of here, maybe they can calibrate their gate for us." 

Us. What a beautiful word. The commander was already moving toward the ridge where her griffon and raven had roosted, but Braham reached out and caught her arm, “Lys, wait.” 

“Hmm?” She turned, tilting her head curiously at him. 

He stepped closer, leaned forward to look at her as she leaned back to look up at him. “I just ...” Why had he stopped her? He felt unsure, but couldn’t find the words to say what he meant. Instead, he just raised his hand to brush the back of his fingers along her cheek, looking down into her pale green eyes as he quietly asked, “Can I kiss you?” 

“Braham …” She spoke his name softly, almost scolding as she held his gaze, “You don’t need to ask. Kiss me?” 

He trailed his fingers to her chin, his light touch prompting her to rise up on her toes as he leaned down. It was the softest kiss, gentle and slow, leaving behind a promise that lingered on their lips. 

Lys opened her eyes slowly, feeling almost drunk with the headiness of that kiss. The feeling was mutual, based on the look Braham was giving her. “Come on, you.” She sighed softly and slipped her hand into his, “Dragon’s waiting.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the amazing [Superfred](https://superfred-art.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are the fuel that keeps me going on this nonsense.


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